Humanity's Faulty Memory
by ululate
Summary: Elsa is a dragon. Yep. Massively AU non-incest Elsanna because eh, why not? Rationality inspired, but let's be honest; nothing can be all that rational when the premise is "let's make Elsa a rationalist dragon."
1. Chapter 1

**Fair warning, I was very very drunk when I wrote this (surprise, I know). There were a few edits, of course, but apparently this is what happens when I drink. I should have been working on a different story, not starting a new one, but oh well.**

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Strange creatures live in the unexplored corners of the world. For years after the discovery of the platypus, anthropologists cried fake. After an okapi cadaver was brought back to England as a specimen, scientists thought it a stitched together prank. How can a creature possibly be half zebra, half horse, and half giraffe? That is clearly numerically impossible, but nonetheless, the okapi is real. The coelacanth was long thought extinct, until a fishing trawler accidentally proved otherwise, and new species are discovered each year, living in the hard to reach places of the globe.

Elsa is a dragon. She lives in a remote crag of the Galdhopiggen mountain in southern Norway. Not a snow-filled open to the elements sort of crag, but a very nice place, with flagstone floors, and marble walls. Frescoed ceilings, and enormous chandeliers made of gold and cut crystal. She is young by her race's standards, only a little over one-thirty, and only maybe a dozen feet long. She likes to fly when she thinks no one is watching, more because she was always told not to, than from any sort of enjoyment for its own sake, but also because… well, flying!

Anna is a human. A short, excitable, freckled, backpacker sort of human. After a certain point, the endeavor is too dangerous, too difficult, to be properly called "hiking." Hence, backpacking. Maybe mountain climbing. She was only nineteen when she succeeded in climbing Everest. Not the youngest by about six years, but still no mean feat. She lives in Jotunheimen, Norway, only a half hour drive from the base of Galdhoppigen, so it is only natural that she would hike it regularly, as training for her other, more technical, hikes.

That is precisely what she is doing when she meets Elsa. She is crossing the glacier, alone, despite the warnings. The snow crunches beneath her boots like a spoonful of cheerios. She wants cheerios now. She has a small ziploc bag of them, but she's saving them. The air is cold, but she wears a coat and good thick hiking pants, and she's used to it anyway. It's a routine sort of hike. A weekend hike. The sort of hike that you bring a tent for, just in case, but you don't really expect to need it.

Elsa is usually careful to avoid the trails when she's flying- there are people that would like nothing better than to hurt her- but there's a wind today. A slight, blowing from the west sort of gentle push. She likes the way the air caresses her long body. It's soothing. Like all those years ago, when her mother would lick her clean. The breeze seems to have a thousand cool tongues, brushing at her scales, tickling the sensitive side of her jaw, trickling through the tiny feathery scales in her wide wings. When the air is gentle and soothing like this, she sometimes closes her eyes- she's high enough that there's no risk of hitting anything, after all. And that's how she drifts over the mammals' territory.

Anna is about to give in, to stop and eat her cheerios, when, with a low whooshing noise, a large white shape flies overhead. She looks up out of reflex, and there, gliding serenely overhead, is a sleek white dragon. Anna had climbed Galdhoppigen many times before, is intimately familiar with the course, but even the easiest, best known trails can be treacherous if you don't watch your footing, and there isn't a single person alive who wouldn't be the least bit surprised by the sudden appearance of a dragon. Her booted feet slip out from under her, and she falls into a shallow crevice in the ice. She loses consciousness within minutes, either from a particularly hard knock, or from hypothermia, she doesn't know, and it doesn't really matter which. Both can be equally deadly.

Say what you will about dragons- they're greedy, armored, reptilian predators, but they aren't evil, and Elsa isn't heartless. She sees Anna slip, and knows she has to help. She had never interacted with a human before- not peacefully, at least- so there had been little reason to learn how to take care of them, but Elsa does remember- vaguely- that humans prefer to be warm, and this whole affair is her fault- kindof- so she's pretty sure that she's morally obligated to take the human back to her cave. She circles downwards, flares her wings a bit at the end like a parachute, and enjoys the way her steely muscles strain against gravity. Her claws crush the hard ice beneath her like so much chalk as she steps cautiously forward- it could be a humanist trick, but no. There's the human sprawled across the ice, shocking orange hair bright against the snow. That's how Elsa first noticed it, of course; that bright orange hair. She huffs, and wedges her sleek, scaled, body into the narrow crevasse. Elsa blinks once, twice, and decides to latch her powerful talons into the backpack (that's not part of the human, right?) It is moderately challenging to wriggle back out of the icy hole, but eventually, Elsa succeeds and lifts the human into the air with a massive heave of her powerful wing muscles.

Elsa is still young, so the human is a significant portion of her body mass, but dragons are absurdly over engineered, so she manages. When she lands in her massive atrium, she's only a little out of breath. Now it is a cross-species constant, that rest is an integral part of healing, but dragons don't use beds- not as fluff-filled mattresses and silken sheets, at least. Their sharp scales would shred their bedding every time they shift in their sleep, and dragons are of rugged enough construction that the comfort gained would be negligible to them anyway.

And that is how Anna finds herself waking up stop a massive pile of gold- Elsa's bed, as she would later learn. The room is vast and vaulted, and the walls are all of glittering black marble. The floor is completely obscured by the incomprehensible wealth around her, but a few feet above the rolling sea of gold is a small stone ledge, and a large steel-bound door.

Humans are insufferably curious. When they're in a situation they don't understand, when they are clearly meant to stay put, they start exploring, and the eternally adventurous Anna is no different. A few moments after waking, she's trying to stand- trying since the world sways alarmingly around her. It takes her several tries, but eventually, she manages to clamber up onto the ledge and tries the door. It's barred from the outside, but there is a gap between the door and its frame, and she still has her backpack.

Anna scowls when she see the wide rips in the tough nylon of her pack, and the shredded tent within, but her tough tungsten-carbide knife is undamaged. She uses the blunt back edge to lift the bar, and slips out. Maybe she should have slipped a handful of gold into her ruined pack, or barring that, her pockets, but it is too great an amount to really register as individual gold coins to her.

She wanders down twisting, maze-like stoney passages, until she hears a rhythmic clicking noise. Anna has always been prone to fantasy. Once, when she was in lower secondary school, her friend Kristoph had told her that trolls lived in the mountains nearby. She had gone looking for them that night, after her parents were asleep. She had gotten lost, of course, and the town had mounted a search when they found out in the morning. She was grounded for a month and a half. So when she saw that the corridors were much larger than normal, her first thought was "giants." In her head, she is Jack, and her little knife is a sword. The fantastic treasure she woke up on is the dungeon's loot table, and that tapping noise Is probably the giant chopping up his last meal. Speaking of meals… She fishes out her bag of Cheerios.

Anna is less surprised than perhaps she should be, when she discovers that her giant is a dragon, and the tapping noise? The snow white scales of the dragon's tail clicking against the flagstone floor. She appears to be reading an ancient human anatomy book.

"You weren't supposed to see me like this," the dragon says. "I'm pretty sure humans are more comfortable interacting with their own kind? I was going to change my appearance, once I finished figuring out what's wrong with you. You want to go back and we'll try again, or just go with it?"

Anna lets out a mighty battle cry, raises her knife, and charges.

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 **AN: well, this got written because alcohol, but im actually quite taken with this absurd idea. there will probably be further chapters eventually... reviews help me do better in the future, follows and favorites tell me im doing something right now. follows/favorites/reviews will help more of the story come out faster, but more importantly, they earn you an imaginary smiley sticker.**

 **Edit: the quality of this chapter was (and still is) much below my usual standard, on account of the conditions surrounding its creation... I have since gone back and done some additional edits, both to try to improve the quality to the point of the later chapters, and to get the lore a little bit more inline with the rest of the story.**


	2. Chapter 2

"That seems like a poor choice," Elsa says calmly, as the knife skates off her armored snout. Her voice is raspy, like she's just getting over a bad cold. Anna jabs for her again, and Elsa gives an annoyed blink. "You maybe want to stop that? On account of I'm basically impervious to that and you are squishy and human?"

"What did you do with the person that saved me?" Anna brandishes her knife in a manner that would probably be threatening if she posed any threat to the prehistoric predator. They are speaking English, since Anna doesn't know what languages the dragon might be familiar with, and Elsa isn't sure how human society might have changed since she last looked into it, but she does recognize the English word "Alpine" on Anna's pack.

"Excuse me?" Elsa blinks.

"The… Guy that saved me?" Anna frowns for a moment. "Wait a minute… Did you… Oh my god I'm such an idiot. Is that offer for a do over still on the table?"

"I think that might be for the best," the dragon nods- a surprisingly human gesture from such an alien creature.

"Hi," The human says brightly, extending her hand, and hiding the knife in her mangled pack once more. "My name's Anna, what's yours?"

"You may call me Elsa," she replies, eyeing the offered appendage wearily. "Would you be more comfortable interacting with a human?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess," says Anna. "You can do that?" The dragon shivers, and in its place, sits a gorgeous woman. Her hair is a thick mane of snow, and her eyes are blue ice cut from the heart of an iceberg, and Anna knows immediately that she will marry this odd dragon girl one day.

Elsa is wearing an odd silvery tunic, with polished brown rock toggles holding it shut at the neck. The young human wonders where it came from, but before she can ask, Elsa says, in that raspy voice of hers, "is this better? My sire warned me that humans instinctively fear the unfamiliar, and fight what they fear. I suppose he was more right than I had believed? I shall have to update my model of humanity."

"Yeah," Anna blushes. "Um, sorry, yeah. You're a lot fuzzier than I expected. Not literally fuzzy… Like… Nicer. Yeah, that. You're nicer than I expected. Um. Sorry about trying to stab you?"

"I will not hold it against you," Elsa says calmly, but there's a twinkle of amusement in her clear eyes.

"So." Anna plays with her pigtail nervously. "You're a dragon, or a wyvern, or what?"

"A dragon, I think is the translation of choice," Elsa blinks- a motion Anna is quickly coming to associate with rapid thought.

"Ok," Anna nods eagerly. "It's just, in the D&D monster manual, dragons have four legs and two wings. I noticed you've only got two legs? Isn't that a wyvern?"

Elsa feels like she should be offended, but she recognizes that she does not know what the odd little human is talking about, and she makes a point of avoiding assumptions when she is confused. Are all humans this strange, she wonders, but now is not the time for such a question, so she discreetly marks it down in her notebook so she will not forget. She writes it in Draconic, since that is the language she is most familiar with, and since she does not particularly want this "Anna" reading her thoughts through her writing. She supposes that Anna might be a pet name or perhaps a convenient shortening of her name. Good names are at least three syllables long. This is objectively true. She adds that question to the list too. "As far as I know, the only difference is etymology," Elsa replies neutrally. "Dragon comes from the Latin 'drako," and before that, the Greek "drakon," whereas wyvern comes from the more Germanic "wyrm," as in terrible wyrm, or terrifying reptile. When I learned English, there was no real difference? Both were used to refer to the same creatures in folklore, regardless of the number of limbs?"

"Oh." Anna says. "Do you have a breath weapon, or a poisonous barb on your tail? What's your alignment? You've got a hoard, I guess. What's it's GP multiplier? Standard? Or double standard?"

"Um?" Elsa blinks once. Twice. "In order I suppose? A weapon is only what you make of it. Anything may be a weapon, and anything may not be. What matters is the use you put it to, but I suspect that's not precisely what you were asking. Yes, I can breath a substance which, applied in combat, could cause harm. I do not have a poisonous barb anywhere on my body. My alignment is… Not wanting to hurt people I suppose? For your last question, I… have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"It's a game," Anna shrugs. "You go around and kill monsters and take their treasure, and use it to buy better weapons to kill bigger monsters. Look, I'm completely out of my depth here. It's the closest I've got."

"How perfectly human," Elsa mutters. "This conversation is supremely awkward. Can we speak of literally anything else?"

"Ok," Anna says, with a grateful sigh. "Sure. Something else. Why did you save me? What am I doing here? I'm assuming I fell or something?"

"Yes." Elsa replies. "I felt morally obligated. You are free to leave whenever you choose. If you wish to stay, I will provide a hot meal, and medical care, to the best of my limited ability. It would be wise for you to leave before your kind decides to mount a search though. I have no intention of being found out because of a good deed."

"Makes sense," Anna nods, with a troubled expression that Elsa can't make sense of. "Will I ever see you again?"

"I should imagine not," says Elsa. "What reason would we have to interact once you've healed and my duty is discharged? Every time our species have interacted in the past, it has ended in violence. Begun with it too sometimes. As I mentioned, I have no desire to be penalized for a good deed."

"Ah." Anna says. "But you damaged my backpack. Hiking packs are expensive. Like really really expensive. And you can't just give me gold. There's nowhere I could get it exchanged for money, and even if I could, there would be questions, and I wouldn't want the answers to lead back to you. But look, I own a backpacking outfitter. It's like a kind of shop. If you work there for a bit, you'll pay for my new pack, and there won't be any awkward questions." She grins.

Elsa blinks slowly. "And saving your life doesn't pay for the damage I did to your… pack… In doing so?"

"Nope," Anna says. "Backpacks are expensive. And besides, I'm betting you don't save just anyone who gets hurt on the glacier. I bet you're why I fell. So really, saving me was just returning things to the status quo there, and I'm still out a backpack. Besides, this way, you'll get to learn more about humans. Maybe see that we're not so bad?"

Elsa blinks again. She makes an odd clicking noise in the back of her throat. "You are playing a dangerous game," she says. "But you did happen to guess correctly. Alright. I'll work at your 'backpacking outfitter.'"

"Excellent!" Anna lets out a triumphant whoop. "I'll take you up on that warm meal now, if that's alright."

 **AN: well, I certainly didn't expect this crazy story concept to latch onto me like this. I also didn't expect so many people (read: any) to like this. Thanks and stickers go to the followers/reviewers. This chapter exists because of you.**


	3. Chapter 3

Elsa leads the human through her opulent compound, pausing occasionally to make sure that Anna has not gotten lost, and backtracking whenever she has. The excitable redhead, for her part, stops every other corridor to stare longingly at the priceless paintings that stud Elsa's walls, or the pristine statues at every intersection, or the exquisitely woven tapestries, or the frescoes, or the mosaics, or the occasional mountain of treasure glimpsed through a half-open door.

"Holy shit," she says at one point. "This is way more than double standard." If Elsa hears her, she does not react.

It takes nearly fifteen minutes of walking, and at least half an hour of amused backtracking, to reach the cavernous dining hall. A large, ornate onyx slab of a table dominates the center of the room, but there are no chairs.

"How do humans arrange themselves to eat?" Asks Elsa, brushing her hair out of her face with an annoyed scowl. "I believe these bodies are too small to lay by the table like a… dragon?" She was going to say 'civilized creature' but that would be rude. She doesn't want to offend her guest.

"Um." Anna frowns a moment. "Chairs. We use chairs. They're like these… chair… things? They've got a square part you sit on, up off the ground, and…"

"Chairs." Elsa cuts her off. "Like what human kings sit upon to dispense justice. Yes, I know them. One moment. How much do you weigh?"

"Excuse me!" Anna blushes. "That's not very nice."

"I don't understand," Elsa blinks. "I asked because I need to know whether it would be more efficient to use a large number of cantrips or a few first level spells? Does this violate social protocol in some way?"

"Aha!" Cries Anna, leveling a triumphant finger. "You do know D&D! Yes!"

"I don't understand," Elsa says again, miserably. "Are all humans this difficult?"

"Nah," laughs Anna, with a conspiratorial grin. "My mum always says 'Anna, you're a force of nature.' Or sometimes 'Anna, I would say you're as stubborn as a mule, but that would give mules a bad name,' or 'Anna, you're impossible,' or… wait, where was I going with this? Cantrips? What one are you using? Mage hand?"

"That's as good a description as any, yes," Elsa gives a relieved sigh. "You know about magic?"

"Well," Anna says cheerfully, "in D&D…"

"Never mind," Elsa says hurriedly. "Look. Chairs. I made chairs." They are colossal throne-like monstrosities, but recognizable as seats. Anna picks one, and clambers up into it.

"What's for dinner?" She asks brightly.

Elsa fiddles with her hair again briefly and sits across the table. "I can conjure most foods. What is a good human food?"

"Stew I guess?" Anna shrugs. "To be honest though, I kinda expected you to serve roast damsel or something."

"Um?" Elsa blinks. "Is this that stupid myth where 'dragons eat virgin maidens, and knights have to go slay the dragon and save the maiden?' Because we determined several centuries ago that eating humans is not optimal. I can probably summon roast damsel if you prefer?"

Anna squints, quite unsure whether the dragon is joking or not. Do dragons even joke? Is that a thing they can do? The question is in her mouth before she can stop it, and almost before she realizes she is talking, it leaves her mouth and hangs over the table like a great, gauzy, tent. It's a thing that happens fairly often with Anna. She blushes and looks away.

"Evidently we do tell jokes," Elsa says with a slight smile. "On occasion, and only when they are truly necessary. I take it you would prefer stew?"

"Yep!" Anna nods quickly. "Stew with potatoes and carrots," Elsa makes a face. "And beef and sausage, and deer bits… venison? And chicken, and steak, which it occurs to me is also beef?"

Elsa nods briskly, and suddenly a hundred lavish bowls appear upon the gleaming black table. Every kind of stew Anna has ever heard of, and a dozen that she hasn't.

"Don't you need to say a word of power, or make some kind of arcane gesture?" Anna asks.

"Why should a specific motion of any part of my body cause the universe to break its own laws of physics?" Elsa replies. "Why should a specific pattern of sound waves be any more unique?"

"You know about sound waves?" Anna gasps. "When did you find out about science?"

Elsa has to remind herself that Anna has no way of knowing what might be upsetting to a dragon, and that anger serves no purpose here. It takes her a few moments, but she is very very practiced at controlling herself. She acknowledges the emotion, realizes that there is no good reason to feel it, and chooses not to. It's healthier than pretending she was never upset. "Science is not unique to humanity," Elsa says at last. "In fact, it is likely that my species began using the scientific method long before yours. Certainly, we taught ourselves to write long before we taught your species to do the same."

"Oh," Anna says cheerfully, "that makes sense I guess." She drags a bowl in front of her, and digs her mess kit out of her pack. "It looks pretty lonely here," she says around a mouthful of stew. "Don't you have any friends or family?"

"I usually see my sire once every decade or so," Elsa replies. "Generally speaking though, no. Reptiles tend to be less social creatures than mammals, and if we are unusual in that regard, it is because we prefer to be more solitary, even, than other reptiles."

"Oh." Anna says. She refills her mouth before continuing. "That sounds so lonely. What about your mother? Don't you ever see her?"

"Not since humans killed her," Elsa says. She tries- and fails- to fit her mouth around a bowl. "A couple dozen humans with rifles hid around the entrance to our cave- they had started a forest fire earlier that day to keep us from smelling them. They got someone from a village nearby, cut them up, and sent them into the cave to ask for help. Said that bandits were massacring the villagers. When my mother smelled the smoke and went out to help, they shot her wings, and while she was grounded, they killed her with cannons. So no. I haven't seen my mother in a while." Calm down, she tells herself. There's no way this human could have known.

"That's horrible!" Anna exclaims. "I'm so sorry!"

"Why?" Elsa asks. "To my knowledge, you had nothing to do with it. I was very thorough. I'm fairly certain I… found… everyone responsible."

"Good." Anna says with a slight frown. "That's horrible and… Good. They deserved it. How did you survive?"

"I would strongly prefer not to talk about it," Elsa snarls, but she composes herself quickly.

"Sorry," Anna says again, and she eats in silence for a while. Elsa, for her part, struggles with her bowl.

"Ok," Elsa says at last. "Humans have tiny mouths, and these cheek things don't even let you open your mouth all the way. HOW DO I EAT THIS?"

Anna grins brightly, glad to be out of the metaphorical minefield. "I use utensils," she replies. "Forks and knives and spoons and stuffs. I mean, this is a spork, but you know…"

"I see." Elsa says, and manifests an intricate silver spoon. "And how do you eat with these silly flat teeth?"

"By, um, eating?" Anna frowns. "I don't know? I've never really thought about it? I guess maybe the front teeth are for tearing, and the side teeth are for chewing?"

"I see." Elsa nods. "On a related note, I have questions about how humans work, and I'm sure you have questions of your own. Would it be acceptable to take turns asking questions? Obviously there are some questions which I will be unwilling to answer, in order to protect the other members of my species, I hope you understand?"

"Yeah," Anna shrugs and grins. "Sure. That works. I'll start. You mentioned other members of your species? Are they all the same color? Do they all have the same breath weapon, and if not, is there any correlation with coloration? Do you all live in Norway or are you spread across the globe?"

"That seems like more than one question," Elsa says. She doesn't smile because she is unfamiliar with human expressions, but there is amusement in her eyes. "We are not all the same color; just as humans have differently colored hair and many species of furred or feathered creatures have a wide degree of variation. My understanding is that all of these structures are made of keratin? I think that's the English translation? I believe it is the same substance our scales are made of. We seem to range from black, to a sort of dull rusty red, to browns and dull greens. I believe white is fairly unusual, probably similar to albinism in other species. We do all breath fire. There is a gland that extracts oils from our food and stores them for later use, and flinty deposits in our mouths that can be used to create a spark. My understanding is that it was very useful to our ancestors when dinosaurs still roamed the planet; apparently it allowed us to scare away larger predators. It wouldn't make sense for two similar, yet entirely distinct, organs performing similar functions to evolve in multiple interbreeding branches of the species. We do not all live in Norway, and to my knowledge, there is not another dragon for a hundred miles in any direction, but I do not feel comfortable sharing anything more specific. Is that satisfactory?"

"Yeah!" Anna grins. Not a sort of polite grin, but the kind of Christmas Day ear to ear sort of grin.

"Alright then," Elsa says, and produces her notebook. She makes a few tidy marks in it, then asks "what gender are you, and how do you tell the difference?"

"I'm a girl!" Anna scowls, and crosses her arms. It might be more difficult than anticipated to convince this dragon girl to marry her. "Jesus Elsa! Um. Boobs? Girls have boobs… they're… um. Sort of squishy things on your chest? You've got them too?" Anna has to force herself not to look. She looks anyway. Elsa is prodding herself and frowning.

"All of humans is squishy," the dragon blinks. "I can't tell the difference. They're these bulgy things?"

"Um yeah." Anna blushes as red as her hair. "My turn. In your dragon form, are you still a girl? How do I tell? How did you pick a human appearance without knowing all that much about human anatomy?"

"That still seems like several questions," Elsa says. "Yes. I am female. You can distinguish male dragons from female by the frills running down our necks. Females have one larger frill, males have two smaller ones. Also, males tend to be smaller, but it is often difficult to tell if that is because the dragon is male, or just young. I chose to base my 'human form' off of a painting I saw. I was informed that the person in the picture was of the same gender, and that they were abnormally attractive. Humans tend to trust more attractive members of their species over the less attractive members. It is called the Halo Effect. I theorized that it would be useful to be trusted. My turn. Is the name you gave a nickname or other shortening of your birth name?"

"Nah, it's just Anna," the human laughs as Elsa nods seriously, and scribbles in her notebook. "How long do dragons live? How old are you?"

"We are immune to most diseases, and we only get stronger with age, not weaker." Elsa turns the page of her notebook, and continues writing. It is bound in leather, but the cover is unmarked. The pages are made of a thick, creamy, high quality, paper, and it is somewhat larger than most notebooks Anna has seen. She wonders if a dragon made it. Are there dragon book binders? She resolves to ask. "In short, dragons live effectively for ever. Until something kills us that is, and humans are the only animals that ever really manage that any more. How long do humans live, and how old are you?"

"I'll be twenty three November first. That's only twenty days away, in case you don't use our calendar?"

"I'm familiar with the Julian Calendar," Elsa says.

"Alright," Anna continues. "Neat. Humans live, what, like seventy to ninety? I've heard of people living until one twenty though."

"So short?" Elsa exclaims. "How are you the dominant species? Has anyone thought to try to extend that?" They continue chatting like that far into the night. Once Anna seems done eating, Elsa dismisses the remaining banquet. Sometime later, Anna yawns, and Elsa leads her back to the massive treasure room she woke up in.

"Why do you sleep on treasure," Anna asks. A titanic yawn splits the question straight down the middle and renders it almost unintelligible.

"It's comforting to wake up in." Elsa says. "It smells nice. To us, at least. I don't know about you? Why? What do humans sleep on?"

Anna doesn't answer. Instead she burrows contentedly into the gold, and sleepily asks, "Elsa? You'll be here when I wake up, right?"

"Of course," Elsa says, and makes that odd clicking noise again. "It's my home. Where else would I be?" But Anna is already asleep. Elsa returns to her library, and retrieves every book about humans she can find.

"Sing, goddess, the anger of Peleus' son Achilleus…" Elsa has shifted back to her scales and leathery wings and fangs and claws like switchblades. She is more comfortable as a dragon, of course. Her armored lips pull back in annoyance, and she wraps herself in her pale, voluminous wings. The night passes quickly, but then, dragons don't see time the way humans do, and the night is shorter for Elsa than an hour would be for Anna. She finishes one of humanity's first great epics. It's not bad, she supposes. She tries the second one. She likes it better. Poor Scylla, she thinks. Except, she was supposed to be reading about humans, and this "Odyssey" thing seems to mostly be about made up creatures. Hmmpfhuh. She considers incinerating the ancient papyrus, but it might be the last copy of this odyssey thing in existence, and it is never wise to destroy knowledge. She telekinetically shelves it.

"So. The Spear-Danes in days gone by and the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness…"

That poor dragon. Why are humans so horrible? Maybe something more modern.

"Elsinore: a platform before the castle

Francisco at his post. Enter to him Bernardo"

Are humans actually managing to get worse? How would that make any sense?

Anna walks in as she is picking out her fifth title. Anna screams, and runs away. Elsa blinks, and deconstructs her wing cukoon. She stretches, and growls, and folds herself up into her stupid, too small, too squishy human body with its stupid hair that gets everywhere, and too small mouth.

"Anna," she calls. "I'm not a dragon anymore. I became a human again. You don't have to be afraid anymore; you don't have to run away. Anna? Come back please?" She is wandering through the corridors she knows so well, and following her nose. Anna is hiding under the big black table.

"Anna," Elsa says, bending, and peering under the great onyx slab. "I don't even eat meat that I haven't summoned. I haven't killed a single creature in a hundred years. You don't need to be afraid of me."

"I know," Anna crawls out from her hiding place. "Sorry. I know that, it's just, when I saw you with those teeth, and those claws, and I remembered when you said that humans were squishy, and I was like 'eep, what if she squishes me with those big pointy claws' and then I guess I stopped thinking, and I ran away and I'm rambling now and I'm sorry and I can't stop…"

"I shall try not to hold it against you," Elsa says. "Many mammals have a similar reaction. It's a subconscious survival instinct, I think. Like when you see a spider, and feel afraid, because many of them are poisonous; it is an evolutionary benefit to be afraid of them."

"So you're saying I was afraid of you because you really could tear me limb from limb and my body knew that, and took over?" Anna frowns. "That doesn't seem fair to you."

"That is a gross oversimplification," Elsa replies. "Essentially correct I suppose?"

"Like a dragon's fear aura in D&D," Anna says brightly. "I wonder what your challenge rating is?"

"Um." Elsa blinks. "I wouldn't know?"

"Ok," Anna grabs Elsa by the forearms, and maneuvers her into one of the big, throne-like chairs. Elsa rubs her arms where Anna touched her, and growls softly. Anna barges ahead obliviously. "So, thought experiment. If you were going to eat me, how would you do it?"

"Um?" Elsa blinks again. She doesn't know how to react.

"Like, would you come at me from behind, and crush my skull, and break my neck, like a mountain lion, or would you come at me from above like an eagle, and dig your claws into my shoulders. And feel my bones crunch under your claws, and my flesh squishes out between your fingers or toes or whatever like icky red jelly? Or would you…"

"Anna," Elsa says calmly. "I would prefer not to think about killing you. Really, the only thing that I can imagine coming from that is making you more afraid of me, and I will have to fly to carry you back to other humans."

"I wonder what I would taste like to you?" Anna blushes.

"Humans have a lot of salt in them, compared to other mammals," Elsa growls. "They taste a little like tuna, but stringier, and more substantial. Look. Can we please not speak of this?"

"Fine," Anna pouts. "What's for breakfast?"

"Breakfast?" Elsa thinks for a moment. "But we ate yesterday?"

"Yes," Anna says cheerfully. "And now it's breakfast time. I don't know how often dragons eat, but humans eat three times a day."

"Three times a day?" Elsa blinks. "I guess I knew intellectually that mammals eat more often, but… Wow. Ok. What is a human breakfast food?"

"I want to try dragon food," Anna says with a face splitting grin.

"No you don't," Elsa replies. "We mostly eat raw meat. Sometimes, before we became… domesticated, I guess… we would sometimes bring down large game with our flames, so sometimes I conjure it with a burnt exterior, but… You wouldn't like it."

"Oh." Anna says. "You're probably right. It's a good thing you're so good at thinking Elsa, or we'd be totally fucked. How about pastries then? Surprise me. Pick a pastry."

Elsa blinks, and a platter of baklava appears. "It's an old Greek pastry. It's the only one I know," Elsa says.

"Not a breakfast food," Anna laughs, "but anything with honey is good."

"It's got nuts," Elsa sniffs and frowns. "I hate nuts."

Anna bursts out laughing. It takes her almost five minutes to recover. Every time it looks like she has gotten herself under control, she sees Elsa's befuddled frown, and loses herself again. Finally, Elsa gives a small, half real smile.

 **AN:** **I just realized… Most dragons have triple standard treasure… This is my mistake. I guess it could be written off as Anna being very stressed out? Or maybe not knowing the rule books as well as she thinks? This is what I get for trying to write about D &D rules from memory XD**

 **I want to give a huge thank you to all of the people who have followed or favorited, or reviewed. I have run out of smiley stickers. Would you all accept star stickers as substitutes? Seriously though, this story has gotten way way more love than a drunken ramble should have produced, and I love you all for it. Several of you have asked that my chapters be a bit longer so, here's my attempt at that. Hope you enjoy.**

 **Also, I have tons on my plate, so I shouldn't be spending all my time writing this story. I'm not really sure how this chapter wrote itself so quickly, but this story has latched onto my imagination and won't let go? Don't expect updates this regularly, but I definitely plan to continue it (partially because like half the reviews are requests for this story to continue XD)**


	4. Chapter 4

"You're sure this is a good idea?" Anna asks, looking over the edge. Elsa's atrium is a massive, natural-looking cave, set high in the side of the mountain. Towards the back, a double door five times Elsa's size is disguised as part of the grey stone. Anna wonders just how large her future wife will get. She's always wanted to sit astride a massive, fire breathing beast. Preferably in battle, but she will settle for Halloween.

The other end of the atrium opens over the sheer mountainside. Anna swallows and takes a step back.

"Yes." Elsa says. "It is the only way out. My home was designed to be difficult for humans to access, you know."

"Well yes," Anna says. "I get that. But… It's a long way down. What if I fall?"

"Then I'll catch you," Elsa snorts, and makes that weird clicking noise again. Anna wonders if that's how dragons laugh.

"What if we're too low to the ground for you to catch me in time and I get splattered across the rocks like a water balloon?" Anna pouts. "What if we're really really low, and I only break my spine, and I can't ever hike again?"

"I do have magic you know," Elsa says. "Now get ready, I'm going to become a dragon again. Please don't run."

"Ok." Anna nods. "I'm ready. I was born ready."

"Calm down," Elsa says. "You might fall." And with that, she's a dragon again. All diamond scales and razor spines. Anna holds her breath for a moment, before she realizes that it serves no purpose. Elsa is careful to hold perfectly still.

Anna takes a few deep breaths. "Ok," she says. "I think I'm good." Elsa as a dragon is actually surprisingly pretty, she realizes. Fierce, and absolutely terrifying, but pretty. Her scales glint like diamonds in the dim morning light, and Anna gets a sudden urge to see her in the direct sun.

"Are you ok?" Elsa asks.

"Yeah," Anna hums. "Yeah, just fine." She walks slowly over to the dragon. Her wings aren't the bony leather she expected. Sure, they aren't dissimilar, but Elsa's wings are covered in tiny, interlocking scales, almost like feathers. Anna runs her hand along the delicate membrane. Elsa watches her with one sapphire eye.

"Sorry," Anna mutters. The wing feels, not quite soft, but almost. Like a snake's skin, but dry, and warm. The thicker scales running along her body shine like cut glass, but they aren't completely white. Near the base, they have a tinge of blue or pink, or purple. They feel like glass, but surprisingly flexible. The long spines that line her back feel more like chalk, but they don't leave a residue on Anna's freckled hands, and they don't bend or break, regardless of how hard she pulls. Elsa jumps slightly, and shies away.

"Please," Elsa says. "Please don't." She shakes her great, horned, head and ruffles her scales, but she can't quite get rid of the tickling sensation. She shakes herself again.

"Sorry," Anna blushes. "I got kindof carried away. You're prettier than I expected, not that I thought you were ugly, necessarily, but…" if it were anyone else, she would probably go for the spines again, but Elsa's teeth and claws are very long, and very sharp.

"I see." Elsa snorts, and twin wisps of smoke spill from her fanged mouth. "Just… don't pull my spines. It feels weird."

"Yeah," Anna nods quickly. "Sorry. Yeah." Well that settles it. One day- maybe when she is more sure that Elsa won't eat her- she will go for those spines again.

"We should get moving before the trails fill up," Elsa says. "I don't want half of Norway to see me."

"Yeah," Anna nods.

"So you should probably ride me," Elsa says.

"How?" Anna asks. "Aren't you a girl?"

Elsa blinks once. She blinks again. "I think you may be misunderstanding something important about reptile anatomy," she says.

"So you didn't mean…" Anna flushes. "No. Of course you didn't. Why would you mean sex? God. I'm such an idiot. This is so embarrassing."

"You are an idiot," Elsa nods sagely. "But you're only human. There's only so much that can be expected. I fail to understand why this is embarrassing for you. It's only a misunderstanding. It could happen to anyone."

"It's embarrassing," Anna insists. "It's sex. It embarrasses people."

"Well," Elsa hums, "the people you speak of are weird hairless monkey things. Of course they're embarrassed. Monkeys look dumb even WITH hair."

"Excuse me?" Anna protests. "You're a weird winged lizard thing. You look weird as hell too." They stand there awkwardly for a moment. "You're still gorgeous," Anna says.

"Feel better?" Elsa asks. She makes that clicking noise again.

"Yeah," Anna says. "I guess."

"Good. Hop on," Elsa lowers herself to the ground, and holds out one pale wing. "Don't step on my wing."

Awkwardly, Anna clambers onto the dragon's lithe back, careful to avoid the spines.

"Hold on," Elsa commands, then her powerful muscles bunch under Anna's thighs like steel cables. With a great surge, like a dam breaking, she launches herself into the air, and Anna is flying. She's ridden on a plane before, but it was nothing like this. She didn't feel the wind whipping through her hair, or the tears in her eyes on a plane. She didn't need to crouch low over Elsa's back, and she didn't feel the titanic surge of her great wing muscles, but on Elsa, she feels all this and more. It's exhilarating, like being alive for the first time in her life.

Elsa flies surprisingly smoothly; she barely moves with each firm wingbeat, but the ground passes by in a blur. Though the wind whips through her hair, it doesn't tear her from Elsa's back like, perhaps, it should. Maybe Elsa's wedge shaped head and smooth contours break the wind somehow? Anna holds herself low, careful to avoid the ivory spines, and the little wind she feels dies away entire. Elsa banks hard, and Anna gives a joyful whoop.

The ride is disappointingly short. Almost as soon as they take off, Elsa is spiraling down smoothly towards the glacier below. Aside from the occasional tight, wheeling, turns, Anna barely even feels the descent. She wonders how Elsa flies so smoothly, so quietly.

Elsa lands lightly, and surprisingly quietly, for a horse sized flying reptile. Her claws carve miniature canyons in the hard ice and tightly packed snow.

"Off please," she says. Shakily, Anna complies. She falls to the hard snow, and is surprised to see the tough material of her hiking pants worn away on the insides of her legs. Beneath the ragged tears, her freckled legs are scraped and rubbed raw.

"Huh," Anna says. She notices that Elsa looks human again. Instead of the silvery tunic she wore before, Elsa wears the same sort of orange parka and tough, insulated pants as Anna. "I guess your scales did this?"

"Probably," Elsa nods. "Humans are soft. I'm sorry. I should have thought." She's crouching over Anna now, cool hands playing over the raw interiors of her thighs. "How can I help?"

"Oh god," Anna gasps.

"That isn't necessary," Elsa replies. "I am no god. I assure you, I can be killed."

"Oh," Anna says. "Hmm? What?"

"Nevermind," Elsa blinks. "How can I help you? You're bleeding?"

"Yeah." Anna struggles to focus. "Um. It's fine. Just a scratch." She grips Elsa's wrists gingerly. While she would love for Elsa to continue, she wants Elsa to know what it means when she does. "I've had worse."

Elsa gives a short, panicked snarl, and jerks her hands back. Anna releases her slowly. "If you're sure," Elsa stands abruptly. "Look , Anna, I agreed to help you at your store, and I intend to honor that agreement, but, well… you touch me a lot, and you should be aware that I'm not really comfortable with that. In draconic society, you don't get that near to someone unless you mean to start a fight. Most of us are reasonable enough to attribute your actions to a different culture, and forgive the insult, but some of us aren't so reasonable, or else, more prideful, and touching a dragon very possibly might get you killed. I shall not kill you. Not for your past actions, and likely not for your future ones, but it makes me uncomfortable to be touched, and I would prefer that you stop. Flying here was fine; I invited you to, and if I ever do so again, it will be fine then too, but…"

"Um." Anna blushes. "Sorry, of course. Yeah." She gets back to her feet as well. "Yeah, I feel like I keep fucking up, and I don't want to upset you, but I just sort of say or do whatever pops into my head, and sorry…"

"Some amount of offense is natural in interacting with a creature from such a different culture," Elsa replies. She looks around, as if expecting people with guns to materialize on the wide, open, glacier. "For my part, I apologize for any offense I may have given. Am I correct in assuming that it is a social faux pas to ask a human about their weight?"

"Yeah," Anna shrugs uncomfortably. She isn't sure it's quite the same. She feels like she might have really upset Elsa earlier.

"And humans consider reproduction a taboo subject of conversation as well?" Elsa frowns.

"Yeah," Anna says. "The trail is that way. Should we get moving? Elsa nods and they set off at a leisurely walk. "Sex isn't… taboo… for dragons?" Anna asks after a moment.

"Not particularly," Elsa shrugs.

"Do you mind if I ask about lizard fucking?" Anna asks with a mischievous grin.

"Only if you refer to it as 'lizard fucking,'" Elsa gives an amused snort. "The female lays an egg if the ruling council determines that it is of use to the species for offspring to carry her genetic material. Some time before the egg dies, usually only a decade or two, they select a male who's genetic material they believe will be of use in the offspring, and he fertilizes the egg. It's not terribly complicated."

"That's… so clinical," Anna gasps. "What about love?"

"It never results in murder," Elsa shrugs. "Or in any of the other drama that surrounds primate mating rituals. Some dragons are very close friends though, and when they are particularly close, they sometimes choose to live together permanently."

"I guess," Anna says. "How does this ruling council decide what genes are good? Isn't that eugenics?"

"My species consists of fewer than five hundred members," Elsa replies with a low growl. Anna is glad that it doesn't seem directed at her. "Four hundred thirty seven, to be precise, unless an egg was laid in the last decade or two. We reproduce very slowly, and it takes centuries for a hatchling to reach maturity. And humans are doing their best to eradicate us. We need every advantage we can possibly get. Is this 'eugenics?' Probably, but we don't kill undesirable members of our species like those of yours who have attempted something similar. I fail to see how our methods are morally incorrect."

"Fair enough," Anna raises her hands in surrender. "That makes sense I guess. How do they tell what genes they need?"

"It's based off a number of factors," Elsa says. "How closely related the parents are, how often similar genetics were used, genetic factors that govern things like physical strength, intelligence, and emotional stability, based off of rolls the council needs filled."

"What were you bred for?" Anna asks. "If it's not rude?"

"Not at all," says Elsa with that clicking noise she makes. "I was bred for significantly heightened intelligence. The council sacrificed a fair amount of genetic diversity for that, hence my unfortunate coloration."

"I think you're a good color," Anna says with a self-righteous nod.

"Forgive me if this is also taboo in your culture," Elsa begins suddenly, "it seems likely that you are attracted to me. It is the explanation that most accurately fits your actions. Is this the case?"

"Oh god," Anna blushes. "Am I that obvious?"

"Yes." Elsa says. "Yes you are. You should be aware that I find you to be moderately interesting, and dragons do have social arrangements that are not dissimilar to human romances. It is theoretically possible that you will be successful in your endeavor. However, you are a different species, one that is responsible for my mother's death, and your culture doesn't seem all that compatible with mine. It is very unlikely that you will be successful, but not technically impossible. I think it unfair not to warn you."

"I don't know how to react to that," Anna says.

"I apologize," Elsa says uncomfortably- Anna takes some comfort that this might be as awkward for Elsa as it is for her- "it would be unreasonable to expect a human from another country to behave like you, it is only reasonable that the culture clash would be more severe when interacting with a member of another species."

"Yep," Anna nods. "Dragons are weird. But I'm going to have to learn everything I can about your culture if I'm going to marry you one day."

"So you're not deterred," Elsa says. "Well, good luck."

"Thanks," Anna huffs. "So tell me about this council?"

"It is a group consisting of the oldest three members of my species," Elsa says. They've gotten back below the tree line now, and are walking amongst the huge evergreens. "They govern the entirety of my species, until such time as the queen returns."

"The queen?" Anna frowns. "There's a dragon queen? Who? What's her name? Does she wear a tiara?"

"Tiaras are human adornments," Elsa sighs. "She might wear one when she pretends to be human, and also wants to advertise her status- which is to say never- but she would have no reason to do so in her true form."

"What's her name?" Anna asks with a gleeful grin.

"You haven't figured that out?" Elsa makes her clicking noise. "Humans really aren't that bright, are you?"

"Nah, we're pretty smart," Anna says. "We got to the moon! My mum says I don't think though. If it's that obvious, I'm sure I'll figure it out the next time I try thinking."

"You are an incredibly bizarre creature," Elsa sighs. "Stop. There's someone ahead. I smell gunpowder."

"I'm sure it's fine," Anna says, but Elsa is already hiding behind the thick bole of a tree.

"Anna?" A gruff voice calls in Norwegian "Is that you?"

"Kristoph?" Anna replies in the same language. "The fuck're you doing here?"

"Looking for you," he pushes through the thicket, and comes into view. A long hunting rifle is in one hand, leather strap wound around his arm. "Where've you been?"

"Fell," Anna shrugs. "Had an… interesting few days. Found my future wife. Kristoph, meet Elsa. Where'd she go? Elsa?"

"You know someone with a gun?" Elsa asks from behind her tree.

"Kristoph is a ranger," Anna says. "He keeps people safe from wild animals… er, like bears and elk and things."

Kristoph laughs. It's a deep, cheerful sort of sound. "Better come out before she short circuits. Look, I'm putting the gun down."

Convinced more by the cheerful, disarming nature of his laugh, than by his words, Elsa pokes her head out. Cautiously, she walks over. "You may call me Elsa," she says in flawless Norwegian. "It's a pleasure to meet you." She doesn't break eye contact as she bends, and picks up Kristoph's discarded firearm. She fumbles with it for a few moments, careful, despite her ineptitude, to keep the muzzle pointed away from her two companions. Finally, she gives a satisfied grunt, and the magazine pops free. Kristoph smiles politely when she returns his gun and pockets the magazine.

"You missed one," he says, and racks the bolt. Elsa tenses for a moment, but he tosses the bullet to her.

"Sorry for her," Anna says. "Some people shot her mother. She doesn't like guns much."

"Wow Anna," Kristoph frowns. "You know she might not want people sharing that, right?"

"Oh my god!" Anna gasps. "I didn't think of that. Elsa I'm so sorry!"

"There was no harm done," Elsa says. She smiles to show that she means it. "It was a long time ago and justice was done. I don't mind who you tell."

"Kristoph," Anna says abruptly. "We were just on our way down the mountain and I would literally kill for a fat stack of pancakes. You're the reason we aren't moving, so GET YOUR ASS IN GEAR!"

Kristoph wisely decides to comply.

"How many languages do you know Elsa?" Anna asks, as they set off again.

"All of them," Elsa replies.

 **AN: thankyou all for all of your support. Reviews, both positive and negative, help me immensely. Let me know what you like, and you'll see more of it, let me know what you don't like so much, and you'll see less of it. As always, follows/favorites/reviews buy my love.**

 **A little explanation for this chapter, I guess... Elsa kindof came across as remarkably forward? I tried to convey that it only makes sense for draconic society to be very very different from human society, and I feel like her actions probably make sense to her, given the societal norms she is used to, but I'm not sure that really came across? It's my first time writing a scene like this (looking at a creature from a very different culture) so let me know what worked and what didn't?**


	5. Chapter 5

"What's that?" Elsa asks calmly, but ducks behind Kristoph as if she intends to use him as a human shield. She probably does, for that matter, Anna allows.

"It's a car," Kristoph laughs- not entirely unkindly, but not kindly either. "You ride in it? To get places faster? Jesus Anna, where did you find this one?"

"Under a rock," Anna shrugs.

"Anna," the dragon growls warning.

"I'm not judging you," Kristoph says. Elsa knows he's lying. "It's just, where're you from that you haven't seen a car before?"

"Under a rock." Elsa sighs. "Under a very pretty rock."

"Kris," Anna says. "Thanks for coming to look for me. If it weren't for Elsa, probably you would have saved my life. But. Um. Elsa hasn't really… interacted with a lot of people and I think you're freaking her out? I'll come by your place later, but…"

"Yeah, I get it," Kristoph says good naturedly. "Just, don't do anything stupid."

"You know me," Anna laughs. "If there's any way I can make a situation worse…"

"Yeah," Kristoph laughs. "Yeah, you'll put your foot in it. Elsa, right?" Elsa nods. "Look, take care of Anna, alright?"

"I will kill anyone that attempts to harm her," Elsa says seriously. She makes eye contact and blinks slowly. Kristoph shudders.

"Ooookay," Anna says. She scuffs her shoe on the rough pavement and glances up at the flashing neon ihop sign. "Well, if you two are done with your alpha bullshit?"

"Yeah," Kristoph says. "See you in a bit. I can walk home. Take my jeep. It's in the parking lot. Just return it when you come by later." He tosses her the keys and leaves.

"Kristoph's cool," Anna announces after a moment. She goes to pat Elsa's shoulder, but thinks better if it. "He's the most chill person I've ever met. I suspect weed, but, well. Whatever works for you, am I right?"

"I don't like how he left you," Elsa growls. "You could be in need of medical attention, for all he knows. For all I know too… human anatomy isn't my strong suit."

"Nah," Anna laughs. "He trusts my judgement. Well, when it comes to me he does. I don't think, and I make a lot of bad choices. Like a lot of bad choices. This one time in college, there was this bottle of cherry flavored rum, and… Ahem. Anyway. He knows that I know me best. Sure, I might be a colossal screw up, but I know when I need help, and he knows that too."

"Hmmm," Elsa growls.

"C'mon," Anna says. "Let's get food. I'm starving. And I want to put on some pants that aren't all ripped up."

Elsa lets Anna take the lead in getting them a table. The waiters are energetic and cheerful, and Elsa only has the patience for one energetic human at a time. As Elsa sits slowly, Anna digs a change of pants out of her damages pack, promises to return, and ducks into the bathroom. Elsa drums her unfamiliar fingers on the table, and looks around curiously while she waits.

Anna passes over a menu when she returns. "It'll look weird if you don't order anything," she says. "I'll eat it if you don't."

"What would you recommend?" Elsa asks. She sits awkwardly, and shifts often. The seat feels oddly squishy. Like sitting on a deer. Is everything relating to humans squishy like this?

"You like meat," Anna says. "What about eggs? Cheese?"

"I wouldn't know." Elsa replies. "I am a carnivore though. If you couldn't imagine a crocodile eating it…"

"Let's get you an omelette, and bacon," Anna says. "If you don't like the omelette, there's still the bacon."

"Ok," Elsa shrugs agreeably.

"Is that a… you… thing?" Anna asks. "The shrugging. Is that a thing your people do?"

"No," Elsa says, and shrugs again, as if trying out the motion. "I did some research last night. I think it would be in my interests to learn to mimic human gestures."

"So… It's all fake?" Anna looks crestfallen.

"Yes," Elsa says brightly. She gives a remarkably convincing laugh. "How am I doing?"

"Eyueghueh," Anna says. "You sound like a Barbie. No more."

"Thank you," Elsa says, and makes her clicking noise. "I take it that was pretty good? To upset you like that?"

"Yeah." Anna swallows, and blushes. "Just. Um. So that clicking. It's how dragons laugh?"

"It is roughly equivalent," Elsa nods. "It's a signal of amusement, so yes."

"Anna," the waitress says. "I didn't know you were into role play?" Elsa scowls when she sees the woman. How did a human sneak up on her in the middle of a wide open room?

"Like you wouldn't believe," Anna wags her eyebrows. "Grettel, a waffle for me? The usual? And a ham and cheese omelet for my lovely Elsa? And bacon? Fuck it, all the bacon. Bacon for days."

"Sorry you have to put up with our Anna," the waitress pats Elsa's shoulder, and completely misses the resultant growl. "She's a fireball, but she means well. She flirts with everyone, even when she's dating, but she doesn't cheat."

"I understood half of what you said," Elsa replies pleasantly. "It sounds like you're being helpful though, so thank you."

"I'll be right out with your orders," the waitress bobs uncertainly and flees back toward the kitchen.

"Jesus fuck," Anna exclaims. "Elsa, don't be rude."

"I apologize," Elsa blinks. "I'm not ambassador dragon."

"Is that really someone's name?" Anna laughs.

"Yes," Elsa nods. "Her full name is Ambassador The God-Emperor Xerxes Dragon, or at least, it was last I checked."

"That's a name?" Anna snickers. "That raises so many questions, I don't even know where to begin."

"Then to preempt your questions," Elsa says, "names are arbitrary strings of syllables that creatures use as shorthand to identify each other. They don't have any sort of metaphysical significance. There is nothing that makes you an 'Anna,' aside from what your parents decided to name you. We, that is, my species, doesn't place much importance on names, so we call ourselves whatever we think sounds cool, and if we decide later that something else is better, well, then we change it. I guess she read Herodotus, and fell in love with it? Second question, yes, the ambassador is a she, and yes, 'emperor' is a primarily male title, but we don't place all that much importance on gender. Why should we? Our version of… marriages has little to do with procreation, and we can change our shapes more or less at will. It takes a while to build a new one, but… why should gender matter to us at all? That said, most of us use puns in draconic as our names, or references to the great draconic epics, or poems. Hmmm. Is there anything I'm missing?"

"That is so weird," Anna laughs. "I think you got everything. Huh. I really thought I had more than two questions." She pauses, and stares at Elsa. The dragon smiles brightly. Which expressions are genuine? Which are just an act? "We've only talked about species stuff. Let's talk about something more, I don't know? More you? Tell me about yourself? What do you like? What do you do in your free time?"

"Very well," Elsa nods. "But you must do the same. Fair trade, and all that?" Anna nods eagerly, and Elsa continues. "I have a large amount of free time. Compared to a human, at least. I enjoy reading- mostly epics. I love the sweeping scope, and the prophesies, and the noble characters, and the treasure…" She gets a dreamy sort of look in her eyes. They continue like that until their food arrives.

The waitress delivers their plates and leaves. Quickly.

"I think you scared her off," Anna laughs.

"I shouldn't imagine I did?" Elsa frowns. "To my knowledge, I behaved perfectly reasonably?"

"You're a scary person," Anna cuts into her waffle belligerently. "Er, lizard thing. Whatever."

"You haven't seen me scary," Elsa says quietly. She sniffs her food dubiously. "It smells like baby chicken and spoilt milk," she announces.

"Eggs and cheese," Anna says around a mouthful of fluffy waffle and strawberry and whipped cream. "It's good. Try it."

Elsa shifts in her seat again, takes a hesitant bite. "Nope," she says, and spits the half chewed egg into her napkin. "That is disgusting. Human food is foul."

"Ok," Anna laughs. "Ok. Keep it down. Don't let the cook hear you."

"Sorry," Elsa says. "The eggs weren't bad, but… I think it was the cheese?"

"Nah, don't worry." Anna takes Elsa's plate and slides the bacon toward her. "Try the bacon."

Elsa sniffs the plate. She blinks, and gingerly tears off a bite sized sample as if she expects it to explode.

"I recant," she says. "This redeems the entirety of human cooking." She closes her eyes, and lays back.

"The rest of the plate is yours," Anna laughs. "I thought you'd like it. There isn't a creature alive that can resist bacon. Just wait until I find some chocolate for you to try."

"Really?" Elsa's eyes are lit up with a sort of childlike glee. "I get all the bacon?"

"Bacon for days babe," Anna keeps a straight face for as long as she can. "So look," she says, once she has control of herself again. "The walk from the glacier to town is pretty long, and you can't fly it since you don't want people to see you. Have you thought about what you'll do? Where you'll stay? My place has a guest bedroom?"

"Sure," Elsa says, and grabs a strip of bacon. "That would likely be the simplest, if you're offering."

"Yeah," Anna nods. "No problem. Out of curiosity, you were startled by the car, but not light bulbs?"

"Light's easy enough to manage," Elsa replies. "It was fairly obvious what the purpose of these 'light bulbs' is."

"Just wait until you see a computer," Anna laughs.

"A computer?" Elsa blinks. "A machine that computes? Like an abacus?"

"Oh it's way more advanced than that," Anna says, producing her cell phone. "This, is the mighty iPhone. A device that holds an entire generation in thrall. It's like a miniature computer." She passes it over.

Elsa turns it over, and peers inquisitively at it. She turns it over again and jabs at it. She almost drops it when the screen comes to life.

"You might need the password?" Anna laughs.

Elsa shakes her head firmly, and reaches for the plate of bacon again. She blinks firmly, and tries a password. She frowns, and tries another. Then another. Then another, and the phone unlocks.

"How the flying titty monster did you do that?" Anna exclaims.

"It's a simple exercise in logic," Elsa says around a mouthful of bacon. "You, by your own admission, rarely think things through, and you seem fairly absent minded. Logically, your password would need to be something easy to remember, likely easy to guess, and it seemed improbable that you would think to make it terribly secure. It had to be four characters long, and as far as I can tell, it could only be numbers. First, I tried 1234. Then 0987, and 9876. I was going to try other simple combinations like 1111, but your name is only four characters long, and there is a standardized system for converting Roman letters into Arabic numbers, so, 2662."

"Oh my god Elsa," Anna says. "That's fucking incredible. Now gimme my phone. There's some stuff I should probably get rid of…"

Wordlessly, Elsa hands back the phone. "It seems to be some sort of automated abacus?" She says after a moment.

"Yeah, I guess?" Anna replies, tapping away on her phone. "I know it uses ones and zeros, and there's something called algorithms that are probably involved?"

"Makes sense," Elsa hums. "We use a trinary system- yes, no, and maybe. I'm guessing you're ones and zeros are yes and no?"

"I have no idea," Anna shrugs.

"How do you use it then?" Elsa asks incredulously.

"Don't know." Anna hands the phone back. "Someone made it so I don't have to actually mess with the ones and zeros part. Here, it's safe for you to look through now."

Elsa reaches for the bacon, and growls menacingly when she sees that the plate is empty. "It uses electrons? It looks like human magic all uses electrons? Is there a reason for that?"

"Yeah," Anna snickers. "It's because it's tech, not magic, silly lizard."

"Tech?" Elsa frowns. "Is that derivative from the Greek word 'technae?'"

"Fuck if I know," Anna shrugs.

"Hmmm." Elsa frowns. She prods the screen dubiously. "How is this 'tech' discovered?"

"You don't discover it," Anna snorts. "You invent it."

"I don't understand the difference," Elsa replies nonchalantly. She grins, when the phone behaves as she intends. "Are you saying you don't discover inventions?"

"You're so weird," Anna says. "Want more bacon?"

"Of course," Elsa says with an odd innocent grin, but her good mood sours quickly. "You know I won't be able to stay long, right?"

"What do you mean?" Anna asks too quickly. She doesn't want this beautiful, quirky, dragon girl to go. Somehow, Anna knows she's not talking about the restaurant.

"There are humans that enjoy killing," Elsa says sadly. "When they kill humans, you call them murderers. When they kill other species, you call it a game. Some humans get very very good at this 'game,' and when they get good enough, lions and bears aren't a thrill." Elsa spits out the words as if they are toxic- or maybe made of cheese. "There is- or was, I don't know- an organization dedicated to helping these people find their thrills. They call- or called. Don't know if they're still around- they call themselves the 'society for the protection of human rights.' I don't know why humans always name their most horrible institutions the most innocuous names."

"That's horrible!" Anna gasps.

"Well," Elsa says, "humans are pretty horrible."

"Hey," Anna feins insult. "I'm human."

"You don't count," Elsa snaps. "And besides, you attacked me the first time you saw me. And ran the second."

"Right." Anna blushes and scratches the back of her head self consciously. "That. Sorry about that by the way."

"I have agreed not to hold it against you," Elsa smiles pleasantly, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes- strangely reptilian eyes, now that Anna looks closely.

"Anyway," Anna grimaces. "You're worried these… humanists… are going to come for you seeking some kind of sick thrill? How would they even find you?"

"They have a device that detects… well, there isn't a word for it in your languages, or if there is, I don't know it." Elsa grimaces. "We call it, well, it doesn't matter what we call it, you won't recognize the word anyway. It's a particle. Like an electron- sort of. We can see it, so we build our magic with it, instead of electrons. I think it's how they found my mother. Unless I'm very mistaken, they use one in every city they can. We think thick stone blocks it. That's why we live underground. You've had them for a while. I don't know who discovered the method of their construction?"

"Then you're risking your life for me?" Anna grins. "That's so romantic."

"Well," Elsa shrugs uncomfortably, "I did say that interactions between our species end in violence. I have every intention of leaving before they notice me, but yes. It is a risk."

"What if they find you?" Anna gasps.

"Then they will discover precisely why it is unwise to anger a dragon" Elsa grins grimly.

"You're a really scary lizard," Anna shudders.

"You haven't seen me scary," Elsa says for the second time that day.

Almost a hundred years ago:

"Mamma?" The little white dragon asks, sticking her pointed snout around the door.

"Yes, Thorvn sweety?" Her mother is a titanic force of nature. Almost two hundred feet from nose to barbed tail tip. Her eyes are massive, glittering golden orbs the size of round shields, her teeth and claws a yard long each, and gleaming like polished ivory. Her scales shine in the witch light like cut rubies.

"Mamma," the little dragon blinks, and her mother knows she's serious. "I've been thinking, you know how I'm supposed to be queen one day?"

"Yes," Smothevn nods her great horned head.

"Well, there's this human philosopher," the albino dragon continues. "They call him Plato." She struggles over the word- her lipless mouth can't form a "p" sound. It sounds more like "ah'lato."

"Plato," her mother corrects.

"Right," the child nods. "Him. I'm trying to learn the Greek. I really am. Anyway, he said that the only ones that can be trusted with rulership are those that don't want it."

"And what do you think about that my little blizzard?" Smothevn asks. The draconic word for blizzard is "elshah," or in the feminine nominative, "elshavn." She rubs her head across the coins she lays on, and flicks a wingfull at her daughter. Thorvn dances back, and shakes her head playfully.

"He made some very convincing arguments," she says. "I've thought about it a while, and I think I agree."

"Thorvn, darling," her mother says. "You should be happy. If that means…" She is cut off by the blaring of an alarm. "Thorvn, make yourself invisible. It's probably just an elk, but it might be humans."

The little white dragon let's out a fearful yelp, and vanishes. Her mother shifts her great body, stands, shakes her head. Coins and gems fall from her armored body like a priceless rain. She would yell at her daughter if she knew that she was following, but Thorvn has always been skilled with magic. Together, they set off for the great atrium.

There is a human there. The smell of smoke burns their nostrils, and the smell of blood wakens Thorvn's hunting instinct. It takes effort not to pounce on the bleeding human. She wonders idly, how old it is? Aren't humans supposed to live short, sad little lives?

It says something in German. She doesn't speak German yet, but she commits the words to memory so she can look them up later. Her mother turns, and says- in draconic- "Thorvn, blizzard, stay here. I need to go help with something." Maybe she's not as good with magic as she thinks?

The human smells nervous. Terrified too, but mostly nervous. Thorvn would expect the emotions to be present in reverse, but then, humans are very odd. A smattering of light popping noises draws Thorvn's attention. What could possibly make a sound like that?

The thick, metallic reek of blood assaults her nostrils, and she blinks in confusion. More blood? It's splattered across the floor near her mother, and the great crimson wings are ragged and tattered. What?

Her mother gives a great roar- her battle cry- a titanic bellow that shakes the stone. Deep in the cave, great piles of coin collapse and flow like water. The great, ancient, dragon begins to wrap herself in the comforting fabric of shielding, but then, two loud booms. Like thunder. Thorvn has never liked thunder. She is supposed to be a dragon. An invincible, prehistoric, predator. But thunder has always terrified her, reminded her that for all their supposed strength, they aren't quite invincible. There is always a greater power.

The thunder makes her jump like a hatchling. She is no hatchling. She is a full thirty years old! She squeaks anyway, when the thunder rumbles again. The human in their cave looks around- what's it even doing here?

When she looks up again, her mother has four great holes in her broad chest. Scarlet spills from her like a punctured barrel. The brobdingnagian beast blinks twice in surprise. She breaths in, readies her flames, but her lungs won't hold the air, and the flames won't come. Abruptly, her strength gives out, and she collapses.

"Mamma!" Thorvn yells, but her mother doesn't reply.

The great dragon looks weakly at her daughter, and spasms weakly.

"Mamma?" She's on the cut human in a flash. Her stumpy baby teeth fail to puncture its skin, but her powerful jaws crush its throat.

Other humans are emerging from the bushes now, and tending to a pair of odd metal tube structures. They don't notice Thorvn until she's beside them. She's young still. Her scales aren't fully formed, and she isn't old enough for fire, but she's still invisible.

The humans carry odd devices made of wood and steel. Little tube things. They don't look terribly sharp, so Thorvn ignores them. She pounces on one, her jaw clamped onto his shoulder, and her powerful hind legs raking his stomach. He drops, and tries desperately to hold his mangled body together.

The other humans are yelling something in German. They raise their odd tube things, and Thorvn hears that odd popping noise again, and tiny puffs of smoke erupt from the tube things. The humans can't see her, but they know she must be near their fallen comrade. The brush around her is pulverized by the hail of fire, and a line of white heat flashes through the thick flight muscle of her right wing. Her hot blood splashes across the snow, and gives away her precise location. She knows that she has lost. She's just a hatchling after all.

But miraculously, before they fire again, her mother is moving. With a titanic surge of her dying muscles, Smothevn interposes herself between the humans, and her wounded daughter.

"Go, little blizzard," Smothevn gasps, her lifeblood spilling across the snow like a biblical flood.

Thorvn runs. She's clumsy with her injured wing, and she tires quickly, but she runs. When she looks over shoulder, the humans are cutting into her dying mother, carving off souvenirs. Dragons don't cry, they don't have tear ducts, but that hardly means they're silent in their grief. Thorvn keens as she runs, a high, trumpeting wail of grief and rage. That is the day that she decides to change her name to blizzard, Elshavn, an homage to her mother, and a vow. To be a deadly white force of nature like a blizzard. Those humans would not be allowed to die of old age, peaceful in their beds, secure in the glory of their hunt. No, even if it takes the next hundred years, they will die in agony. They will know just how unwise it is to anger a dragon.

 **AN: so... that got kindof dark there I guess... I'm not apologizing...**

 **Huge huge thankyou to Salnar who gave some excellent criticism last chapter (which sadly is not showing up in the reviews section). This was very helpful to me, and I have done a few minor rewrites per their advice. Chapter 4 is now somewhat better, but the story doesn't change. If you want to go back and check out the changes, I encourage you to do so, but it is not necessary to your understanding of this story.**

 **A thankyou also to hatesolstice who reviews quite regularly. Extra stickers for both of you.**

 **On the topic of this chapter, as much as a dragon has a "real" name, I dont think it would make any sense for Elsa's to actually be Elsa on account of "Elsa" is a very human name, and I highly doubt a prideful, slightly racist, dragon would take a human name without good reason.**

 **As always, reviews/follows/favorites keep me writing when I should be sleeping, and make that writing better, so if you enjoy this story, it is in your best interest to do at least one of those...**


	6. Chapter 6

As Elsa follows Anna into her home, she is amazed by human artifice for the first time in her life. Everywhere, there are tables and shelves, covered in tiny figurines, each exquisitely formed and perfectly painted. Here, a cluster of inch-and-a-half tall Knights, armor gleaming in the electric lights, and pennants bent as if flapping in the wind. There, a great, foot long hydra, maws forever dripping gore, scales dappled greens and browns.

"These are beautiful," Elsa says, bending to examine them closer. "Did you make these?"

"Yeah," Anna flushes self-consciously. "I've got a three-d printer. I print them in plastic, but the resolution is shit, so I sand them, and carve in the details with an exacto- that's a kind of knife."

"And you painted all of them?" Elsa presses her face as close as she dares to the figurines.

"Yeah," Anna says again. "That one, the details were so small I had to use a needle as a brush. They're for D&D. We've got a game next Friday, if you're interested?"

"I didn't know it involved such beautiful pieces of art," Elsa sighs. "Yes, I'll play your game with you."

"Excellent!" Anna crows. "Ok, so this is the living room."

"Where you live?" Elsa blinks. "What's the rest of the structure for then?"

"No," Anna laughs. "This is where I paint and watch movies and play video games."

"Why's it called a living room then?" Elsa is still entranced by the tiny models.

"No idea." Anna shrugs.

"What is a movie?" Elsa asks.

"It's…" Anna thinks for a moment. "It's like a book, made of pictures, and the pictures move. Or like a play that you can watch as many times as you want?"

"Ok." Elsa nods. "And a video game? Is that a game about seeing?"

"What?" Anna frowns.

"From the Latin word video?" Elsa looks up. "To see?"

"Oh," Anna nods. "Yeah, probably. It's like a movie, but you get to control what happens. I've got Skyrim… which it occurres to me never to let you play, and Dragonage… which, um, same. And Darksouls… um. God. And Twilight Princess… You know what, maybe just don't play video games. God my species sucks."

"Um." Elsa blinks. "Ok."

"So… movies!" Anna scratches the back of her head. "It occurs to me that you haven't seen Lord of the Rings! We should change that!"

"Sure," Elsa nods agreeably. "What's through there?"

"Kitchen," Anna says. "It's where I cook. When I don't just order pizza that is… Oh my god! I just realized! You won't like pizza! You poor, sad, little lizard thing, you don't get to enjoy pizza."

"Truly, mine is a cursed existence," Elsa nods sympathetically. "What's pizza?"

"The food of the gods," Anna says with feigned sadness. "It's thin dough- that's this stuff made of ground up grain-"

"I know what dough is," Elsa says with her amused clicking.

"Don't you laugh at me," Anna chuckles. "Anyway, it's this thin dough, with tomato paste, um, mashed up tomatoes, and cheese, and stuff. It's… a lot better than it sounds."

"Literally everything in that sounds pretty horrible," Elsa says. "What's through there?"

"Hallway, bathroom, and bedrooms," Anna says.

"Bathroom?" Elsa blinks. "Is that like an integrated bath house?"

"Sort of?" Anna blushes. "There's a bath. It's. Um. Where humans… do their business…"

"Do their business?" Elsa clicks. "Is that another euphemism?"

"I guess," Anna flushes. "Um. Passing waste?"

"That's wonderful," Elsa closes her eyes, and clicks again. It sounds almost like she's choking, she is so amused. "You humans and your euphemisms. You're even ashamed about your basic bodily functions? Do you think you are the only one that shits? Why are you so embarrassed about so many normal functions?"

"Um." Anna blushes. "Yeah, I guess when you put it that way. Anyway. Um. So, I'll show you your room. It doesn't have a bed, but I don't think you'll mind?"

"Ok," Elsa nods, and follows the excitable redhead.

"So those are bookshelves," Anna gestures once they have arrived in Elsa's new room. "I was using the room as a library."

"I know what bookshelves are," Elsa says kindly.

"Right. Of course," Anna replies. "It's just, you didn't know what a bathroom is."

"It is hardly my fault that you weird monkey things make everything into a metaphor," Elsa shrugs. She shrugs again for good measure. Anna doesn't inform her that a second shrug doesn't intensify the first, mostly because she thinks it's adorable.

"You can read anything you want," Anna says. "Except that one; it's just smut. Also that one. Probably don't read that one either, also smut."

"Space Raptor Butt Invasion?" Elsa reads with a bemused frown.

"Also smut." Anna blushes. "Probably don't read it."

"Space Raptor Butt Redemption?" Elsa blinks. "Why would a velociraptor be in space?"

"Yeah, that's the sequel," Anna says quickly. "Um. You know what? Just don't read anything on these three shelves."

"Ok," Elsa replies.

"So," Anna tries to ignore the shelves behind her. "I've been away from my shop for what? Two days longer than I thought I would be? I should probably return Kristoff's truck, and make sure that kid Olaf didn't burn it down while I was gone. You'll be fine alone?"

"Yes," Elsa selects a book from the permitted shelves and drops to the floor. "I am a reptile. We are fairly solitary creatures. I will be fine, and if attacked, I will not use my breath as a weapon in order to keep from burning down your home while you are away. You have nothing to fear."

"I have a lot to fear," Anna mutters. Elsa flicks her ear in annoyance. "Anyway, um, bye lizard. See you later."

"Goodbye hairless primate," Elsa replies.

"Hairless primate," Anna mutters, as she locks the front door behind herself. "Stupid lizard. I bet she burns down the whole fucking block."

"Anna, hey!" Kristoff calls, crossing the street as she steps out onto her sidewalk.

"Hey Kris," Anna waves. "Whatcha doin here?"

"Checking on you," he replies- at a more reasonable tone of voice, now that he's closer. "It's been a while, and I wanted to make sure she wasn't another Hans."

"Don't you dare say that fucking name," Anna snaps. She doesn't mean for it to come out as harshly as it did, but now that her words are out, she finds that she doesn't really regret the tone.

"Sorry," Kristoff mutters. Then, louder, "you've got terrible taste though. You've not had a single breakup what's gone well."

"That's why they're breakups," Anna says. "This time it's different. Elsa's nice. Really, really weird, but nice."

"That's part of what worries me," the big ranger replies. "I feel like she's hiding something under that polite facade. Like she's an axe murderer or something."

"Nah," Anna laughs, but it sounds forced. "She wouldn't use an axe."

"I seriously hope you're joking," Kristoff says. "Look, I know I'm only supposed to protect people from animals, but some people are animals too. If you ever need help…"

"Yeah," Anna sighs. "I know."

"I'm serious," Kristoph says. "I know some army people."

"Marshmallow doesn't count," Anna says. "You and I both know he wouldn't hurt a soul."

"He shot me," Kristoph protests.

"When you first met," Anna snorts. "And that's barely true. He thought you were a moose, with that stupid fucking hat. And now you're a couple anyway."

"It's a cool hat," Kristoph grumbles. "Anyway, I was talking about Marshmallow's army friends. And I'm serious; if someone hurts you, just call me. I think this Elsa girl might be serious too, come to think of it. There's something about her…"

"Yeah," Anna shrugs nervously. "I guess?"

"Hey, speaking of people that need to get hurt," Kristoph says. Anna glowers at him. "That piece of shit."

"Hans?" Anna pouts.

"Yeah," Kristoph nods. "But apparently I'm not supposed to say his name. Anyway, he's been coming by the station asking about you. Don't worry, no one is stupid enough to tell that shit waffle anything, but, well, Oaken's Trading Post isn't exactly the lowest profile name you could have picked. Maybe next time don't stamp your last name on your business? He's going to find you eventually."

"Yeah," Anna sighs. "I know."

"Seriously," Kristoph says. "Get a goddamn restraining order. How many times are you going to move because of this ass nugget?"

"I don't know," Anna shrugs. "I… I don't know, I don't want to make a big deal of it. Hmm. I wonder what would happen if I told Elsa about him?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Kristoph chuckles nervously. "Seriously, Anna, I think she really might have killed a guy. I'm not so sure the 'justice' that got served to the people what shot her mum was, well, entirely legal."

Anna shrugs. "Ima go check on my shop. Here're your keys."

"Anna," whatever Kristoph was going to say, he thinks better of. "Be careful, okay?"

"Sure," she grins tiredly, and climbs into her hummer. She drives off, and waves cheerfully as she rounds the corner. Once she's out of sight, Kristoph turns back towards her home, and peers through the first window. Nothing but her figurines. Okay.

The next. That creepy stuffed animal sitting on the shower head and watching the toilet. Okay.

The next. A horse sized alabaster dragon curled up on the floor reading a book. Okay.

The next. Wait, what? He goes back one, and sure enough, there's a dragon in Anna's house. He taps on the glass. Afterward, if you asked him why, he wouldn't be able to answer. He probably wouldn't be able to answer if you asked him while he was doing it, but nonetheless, his thick finger goes tap tap tap, and the window goes thunk thunk thunk, and the dragon doesn't look up. a statue then. Anna has strange tastes. Kristoff doesn't see Elsa though, and after a few more minutes, he leaves. Elsa tries out her shrug again, and goes back to her book.

Anna returns a few hours later. "Honey, I'm home," she calls as she locks the door behind herself. There is no answer. She frowns, and goes to check on her dragon. Her dragon- Elsa wouldn't be too happy to hear that. Anna resolves not to say it around her. She checks the guest room first, and there, curled up in the center of a ring of books, sits Elsa, gnawing aggressively on her own scaled shoulder.

Anna feels some measure of relief that she doesn't immediately feel the need to run- it wouldn't do to run from her future wife every time they see each other. "We've got a bath?" She laughs.

"You messed up my scales when you rode me," the dragon replies as if it were perfectly obvious. "I'm fixing it. I'll try the bath when my scales are where they should be."

"Uh-huh," Anna says. "And all the books?"

"I was doing research on humans," Elsa replies. "I read fast."

"Ok," Anna nods, and nudges the nearest book closed. "Oh what the fuck Elsa," she says when she sees the title. "I said anything but those three shelves."

"Yes," Elsa nods, and blinks. "But I read very quickly. I was bored. And of course, when I became bored, I would pick the books you specifically forbid- wouldn't that give me the best insight into the parts of human culture that you are least likely to tell me about yourself?"

"That actually makes a lot of sense," Anna blushes. "I can… erm… see how that could be useful knowledge for you. You know, eventually. Hypothetically. Um. What'd you think?"

"I'm still not sure there is any reason for a velociraptor to be in space," Elsa replies casually.

"Jesus," Anna groans. "Is that the only one you read?"

"Of course not," Elsa says.

"And?" Anna bounced from foot to foot.

"I fail to understand what Edward sees in Bella," Elsa snorts. "She is very boring. Also, the author really likes the word 'porcelain.' Also, 'marble.'"

"You didn't find it odd that he watched her sleep?" Anna's face is the same color as her hair. Elsa wonders if she needs medical attention.

"His reasons were absurd and stupid," Elsa says. "In principle though, no. I imagine his true motivation was that he wished to ensure no one stole his most valuable treasure- evidently this Bella creature, for some reason. Most likely he was lying to keep her from realizing how valuable she was to him. Had she known that, I think it likely that she could have gotten anything she wished out of him."

"That's… certainly an… interesting take on twilight," Anna coughs. She crosses her legs and sits on the outside of Elsa's book circle. "Probably would have been better written that way. Anything else?"

"I think Edward is an idiot," Elsa announces. "Bella clearly wishes to become immortal, and he claims not to want her to die. If she is as valuable to him as all that, it seems irrational to want to kill her himself with old age."

"Ok," Anna sighs. "I'll take the bait. He's not killing her, he just wants to let her die a natural death. Like she should. He thinks there's an afterlife. I think it's romantic… Why are we even having a serious conversation about goddamn twilight?"

"I have my reasons," the dragon shrugs. She still doesn't look human, and Anna congratulates herself on her calmness. "Do you concede that, in the event that you are present for a murder, and that you have the ability to stop it, yet you choose not to, you are yourself partially culpable for the murder?"

Anna thinks for a moment. "Yeah, sure," she says, watching Elsa's tail slowly flicking back and forth.

"Then naturally, you also concede that any death which you have the power to stop becomes murder if you choose not to?" Elsa blinks slowly, and makes eye contact with her human.

"Um." Anna frowns. "No? People are supposed to die when they get too old. It's natural."

"Hmph." Elsa snorts, and goes back to her grooming. "Do you know what else is natural? Plague. Disease. The food chain. If we are placing some sort of inflated importance on nature, then morally speaking, I should eat you right now."

"Please don't?" Anna shudders theatrically, but she's grinning. "That would be murder though. It wouldn't be natural."

"You completely failed to grasp my point," Elsa growls.

"I'll grab your point?" Anna jokes halfheartedly. Elsa ignores her.

"There isn't this mystical mortality curse," Elsa snorts. "It's just disease and organ failure. Your… I don't know what word your language uses for it? Your body is made out of tiny bubbles- smaller than you can see- and each of these bubbles has a number of strings, and those strings hold the instructions for how to make an Anna. From context, I am assuming that you call these string things 'chromosomes,' but I'm not sure?"

"You're right," Anna nods uncomfortably.

"So your chromosomes lose a bit off the end each time they… make new bubble things…" Elsa blinks and cocks her head.

"Cells," Anna provides.

"Sure," Elsa continues. "So every time your body makes new cells, these chromosomes get shorter. They've got a bit of junk stuff on the end, so you're fine for a while, but eventually you run out, then you're losing important how to make an Anna information. When that happens, you start getting errors in the form of Anna. Then your organs don't quite work right anymore and eventually one of the problems get bad enough to kill you. It's a bit more complicated than all that, but that's the gist of it. Fixing that isn't any more morally incorrect than curing a plague. There are even some species- sharks, a bunch of different reptile species, dragons- that don't suffer from the genetic ailment we call mortality. I don't know how other species manage it, but dragons produce this… Do you have a dictionary?"

Anna grabs one off the shelf and hands it across. Elsa flips through it for a few minutes.

"Ok," she says. "We produce this enzyme. It keeps your chromosomes from getting smaller when they divide near it. The Society for the Protection of Human Rights discovered- quite by accident- on one of their hunts, that our blood contains this enzyme in a fairly high concentration- many human cultures have myths wherein drinking the blood of a kill grants you that animal's strength. Obviously this is just a myth- bull shit? But, well, I suspect that's how they discovered the 'mystical' properties of our blood."

"That's horrible," Anna gasps. "God my species sucks." She pouts for a moment. "I don't know why someone would commit a murder to try to live forever though. That's what heaven is for."

"Your afterlife?" Elsa cocks her head. "Let's assume, for the sake of argument that there is a god…"

"Oh there's a God," Anna cuts in.

"Sure," Elsa nods. "Let's assume that you're right, and there is a god, and this god has a special place in its heart for humanity. It's this benevolent, pro human, all powerful creature. Sure, it seems like such a creature could manage some sort of alternate universe wherein dead humans are reincarnated. There's not a whole lot that an all powerful creature couldn't do. But why would it restrict this other world to humans that have followed this one, specific, arbitrary, set of laws in this one book. There are a very great many books of mystical laws. How are you supposed to choose the correct one? If your god is reasonable, it will not fault you for guessing wrongly, nor will it fault you for hedging your bets with immortality. Of course, this monk I ate, oh, ninety years ago thought that reason couldn't apply to gods. But if that's the case, your best option is to guess and hope. Any entity which dooms millions of creatures to an eternity of suffering simply because they were unlucky, does not deserve your worship. If it is so capricious, are you so sure you want it's 'paradise?' Furthermore, any entity which punishes a finite crime- as any crime committed by a mortal definitionally must be- with an infinite punishment is too irrational to reasonably predict."

"Oh my god," Anna whispers. She looks close to tears, if Elsa's inexpert opinion can be trusted. She forges ahead anyway.

"Mortality has been an unsolvable problem for humans for millennia," Elsa says. "I have no trouble believing that, faced with the prospect of non-existence, humans might invent an afterlife so as not to have to consider their impending demise. Your species is amazingly gifted at self deception, and remarkably unwilling to face facets of their life that they do not wish to. If there is a god, I cannot imagine that it would fault you for seeking out immortality. Are you alright?"

Anna is sobbing quietly now. "Elsa?" She asks. "You think I won't exist anymore after I die?"

"That is what the evidence seems to support," the dragon shrugs. "Not precisely my point, but yes."

"I don't want to stop existing," Anna says. "I don't want to die."

"That is quite unfortunate for you then," Elsa says.

"Elsa?" Anna asks after a moment.

"Yeah?" The dragon blinks.

"Can I touch your face?" Anna blinks. Tears stud her face like tiny diamonds.

"If you must," Elsa snorts. "Yes, you may."

Anna gives a watery grin, and runs her slender, freckled hand along Elsa's scaled cheek. A narrow scratch marrs the fine scales of Elsa's slender snout- more a slight discoloration, and shallow groove than any sort of actual damage. "Is this where I stabbed you?" Anna asks.

"Yes," Elsa says, watching Anna wearily. "You needn't worry. I will probably shed the damaged scales in a few weeks. Soon there won't be any sign of your attack."

"Good," Anna says. She runs her hands slowly down Elsa's face, and toys with her sharply pointed fangs.

"Can I touch your back?" Anna asks.

"No." Elsa jerks her head away.

"Can you make me immortal?" Anna asks.

"No." Elsa says simply. If she was going to say more, Anna cuts her off.

"So what did you think of Jailbait Zombie?" Anna asks, so she doesn't have to think about Elsa's reactions.

"It was poorly written," Elsa sighs. Anna can't tell what expression her alien face has.

"Is that all?" Anna wags her eyebrows. "It didn't… make you FEEL anything?"

"You do know that sexual arousal is a mammal thing, right?" Elsa shakes herself. "I shall go and take that bath now. I'll see you in the morning."

"Ok." Anna pouts. "See you in the morning you lizard."

"Yes," Elsa blinks oddly, and is suddenly human. "Same to you, primate."

That night, laying in bed, Anna's thoughts keep her awake. Why won't Elsa give her immortality if she herself admits- argues even- that it would be murder? Why would Elsa argue so hard for immortality, just to refuse to give it?

Anna wonders if she should try to take it. But no, aren't most of the problems in the paranormal romance novels she loves so much caused by a failure of communication? What would Elsa do? She's built to be smart, right? Well, that's obvious. She'd ask about it.

She's built to be smart. Why would dragons need a smarter dragon? She always makes fun of humans' intelligence, doesn't that mean all dragons are smarter? You'd think the queen would need to be smart, but who else, really?

Oh my god.

Anna sits bolt upright, and says it aloud. "Elsa is the dragon queen." It's so obvious now. Anna smacks herself on the forehead. She smacks herself again, just to make sure she gets it. No wonder Elsa thinks humans are so dumb.

 **AN: many many thanks for the outpouring of support for this story. There was a glitch (apparently) wherein a lot of reviews didn't ever show up. I pride myself on replying to every review/PM, but I have not been able to reply to many of your wonderful replies, and many of them, unfortunately, still have not appeared. If your review is one of those, know, I do still receive them via email, and each one absolutely makes my day.**

 **Also, I have realized that some of the story choices I made in the first two chapters of this story aren't quite as interesting as others that I could have made. There might be a few (very minor) inconsistencies, until I have time to go back and change them. For instance, in chapter three, Elsa is horrified to discover that humans don't live for very long, and she says "has anyone thought to extend that?" but it is more fun to play with some of the other European myths, such as the myth that someone can take the strength of their kill by drinking the animal's blood. You even see some modern day hunters following this myth, and I thought it would be pretty interesting to play around with it? Anyway, when I started this story, I didn't really know where I was going with it (TBH, I don't actually remember what I was thinking at all) but, I can't seem to stop working on this story, so it's going to need a plot XD**

 **Also, also, thank you all so so much for the almost 1500 views! I can hardly believe that this story has become so popular. Your follows/favorites keep these chapters coming, and your reviews are so so encouraging. Thank you all so much.**


	7. Chapter 7

"Elsa!" Anna yells. She grabs a soup spoon from the kitchen. "Elsa? Wakey wakey?" There is no reply from the guest room. "Goddamnit Elsa, wake the fuck up or I will come in there and paint you purple." She bangs the soup spoon on Elsa's door a few times as hard as she can. It leaves three shallow divots in the painted pine of the door.

"Are you trying to die?" Comes the pained hiss from within.

"I'm trying to wake you up," Anna says. "We need to eat breakfast, and then we need to go to my shop. You promised." Elsa doesn't reply, so Anna tries her best to growl. There is still no reply, she bangs on the door a few more times. The door opens slowly.

Elsa- in her human shape- stands there blinking blearily. She's wearing a long silvery nightgown. It clings to her slender body like fine linen, but by the way it hangs, it must be extremely heavy.

She growls. The sound is deep, and rumbling like an angry summer thunderstorm, or the pounding roar that an avalanche makes. "You are either very brave, or very stupid," she says.

"Love you too," Anna says cheerfully. "I'll make bacon."

"Lots of bacon," Elsa hisses.

"Yep," Anna nods enthusiastically. "Bacon for days babe. C'mon."

Elsa wobbles dangerously as she follows Anna to the kitchen, and drops heavily into one of the chairs. "Two legs," she grumbles. "Not structurally sound."

"Ok," Anna giggles. "You're hopeless. Ima introduce you to the eighth wonder: coffee. Here." She pours a mug, and passes it over.

"Smells bad," Elsa grumbles, but she picks it up anyway. "Like mashed up beans and water."

"Yep," Anna says cheerfully. "Drink it. It'll help."

Elsa takes a careful sip, and sticks out her tongue in disgust. "Tastes bad," she decides.

"All of it or it won't work," Anna manages to keep a straight face, and tumps an entire pack of bacon into the skillet. Elsa growls again, but complies.

"So look," Anna says, focusing as much of her attention as she can on the bacon. "I was wondering… why did you spend so much effort last night trying to convince me that immortality is a good thing?"

"Because otherwise this isn't going to work," Elsa grumbles.

"Huh?" Anna turns around and blinks a few times.

"You being mortal," Elsa sighs. "It's not going to work. I fully intend to live forever. I'm not going to become invested in your wellbeing if you're just going to go and die in a few years. How would that be fair to me?"

"Oh." Anna thinks for a moment. "Um. Why'd you not make me immortal then?"

"Because I don't want to kill you," Elsa says. "I assumed you had figured it out because you didn't let me finish? In dragon society you let people finish unless you already know what they are going to say. It's not the same for humans?"

"Guess not," Anna shrugs sheepishly. "So what's with the whole not wanting to kill me thing? I'm confused."

"The extra bits on your chromosomes- I'm pretty sure they're called telomeres?" Elsa frowns. "Wow. This coffee stuff is awful. Anyway, so these telomere things actually serve a purpose. They help prevent cancer. See, when you get cancer, your little cell things start making more really really fast, so they run out of telomere really quickly, and the whole cancerous blob gets sick and dies off. The only really dangerous cancers are the ones that have fixed their telomere problem. Apparently that still happens sometimes, but the telomere thing helps. My species has a different way of dealing with cancer, but we usually have a few dozen cancerous growths at any time. They're not a problem, since our bodies are pretty good at getting rid of them, but I worry that your species might be the same? If that's the case, you'll probably be fine, since it will die off pretty quickly, but if I gave you my blood, it might not. Like I've said; human anatomy isn't my strongest topic. I would want to talk to one of my species' physicians before mucking about with something I don't understand."

"That actually makes a lot of sense," Anna scratches the back of her head uncomfortably. "You know, I was actually considering just trying to take immortality from you. How funny is that?"

"It's good that you didn't," Elsa says. "I'm a very proud creature. I would have probably killed you."

"Oh," Anna flushes. "You should probably work on the whole pride thing."

"Why?" Elsa cocks her head.

"It's a sin," Anna replies. "Like, one of the seven deadly sins, I think."

"Why?" Elsa asks again.

"Because…" Anna frowns and turns back to the bacon. "Look, never mind. So, you said you're not so good with human biology, but you certainly know more than me. What's up with that?"

"Have you heard of polymathism?" Elsa asks. Anna shakes her head, so Elsa continues. "A polymath is someone who knows many things about many subjects. It comes from the roots 'poly,' meaning many, and 'math,' meaning learning. The idea is that you can extrapolate knowledge on topics you aren't familiar with, if you know enough about related topics. I know very little about human anatomy, but I know a lot about draconic physiology, and I know a fair amount of chemistry, and I know some other mammalian biology, and I know about evolution, and it is fairly easy to extrapolate some of the more basic concepts from my knowledge base."

"Ooh! Like Leonardo da Vinci," Anna says. "Was he a polymath?"

"Yes," Elsa nods. "He was apparently surprisingly tolerable- for a human. He died long before I was hatched, unfortunately. I was told that he theorized the existence of dragons, and succeeded in finding several of us, but we convinced him to keep it from the world as a whole. Apparently a number of his flying machines were based off of the structure of our wings."

"He sounds amazing," Anna says. "I would have liked to meet him too." She sighs sadly. "Right! Bacon. Your bacon is done, milady." She feigns a bow.

Elsa snorts, and makes her clicking noise. "I am no lady," she says. "Ladies were an inspiration to many a knight, and I- understandably, I think- hold quite a grudge against knighthood as a whole."

"No," Anna shrugs. "Maybe not, but you are a queen, right?"

"Yes," Elsa nods, but avoids eye contact. "I am a bit."

Anna slides the plate of bacon to her, and joins Elsa at the table. "Why aren't you off queening?" Anna asks.

"It's… complicated," Elsa groans. "Oh god, Anna, bacon is your race's one redeeming quality."

"I'm glad you enjoy," Anna smiles. "About the queen thing… Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't particularly," Elsa says, selecting another slice of bacon. "But I suspect you offered more for the sake of your own curiosity, than my emotional well being. Yes, I am the dragon queen. If I ever return to my race's mountain stronghold, they will all bow down to me, and they will expect me to lead. Incidentally, that's why I'm here. I read some of the works of a human philosopher- named Plato, I don't know if any of his works have survived- and he argued that the best ruler is one that does not want to rule. I was bred to be the ruler, you see, I wanted to be the best ruler I could possibly be. If you are literally born for a task, if your entire species is counting on you, well, that's a very good feeling. You feel wanted. Needed. I wanted to be the best queen I could possibly be, so when I realized that I could be a better queen by not wanting to be queen, I changed myself. I made sure I didn't want to be queen, and now, I have no desire to rule. None at all. I would be an excellent queen, I think, but I want no part of that, and, well, I'm a dragon. No one can tell me what I must do. So I left, and I have no intention of ever returning."

"God Elsa," Anna whispers. "I'm so sorry you're in that position. Does this mean they will breed another queen?"

"No," Elsa shakes her head. "Each member of my race represents a colossal investment of time and resources. There was no 'spare' queen, and they will not try to replace me unless they are absolutely certain that I will not come back- in the event of my death, for instance. I think they probably know where I am, and they seem to think that I will return one day- they are very sure, apparently- but so far, they seem to respect my decision to leave."

"Hmm." Anna nods thoughtfully. She blinks, for Elsa's sake. "So, there are like, spy dragons following you around? This is so cool!"

"I am taking a fairly great risk by visiting a human town," Elsa replies. "Like I said, I represent a significant investment in the part of my race. I would be very surprised if they are not taking steps to prevent the loss of their investment. I give it maybe a month- at most- before the humanists realize I'm here, and come for me. They will do it when I'm alone, or barring that, when I am not in a public place. I have a plan though. I intend to annihilate the humanists once and for all, but I worry that whatever agent is watching over me may interfere."

"One agent?" Anna scoffs. "You're worth more than that."

"You underestimate my species," Elsa laughs. "One adult dragon, wearing body armor, and ready for a fight, is the match for any number of humanists."

"Shit!" Anna stands abruptly. "We're late. Grab the bacon and c'mon!" Elsa stands calmly, and picks up her plate. "Wait," Anna says. "You can't wear that! We're going to need to get you a uniform!"

"Like what you're wearing?" Elsa asks. Suddenly she's dressed in the same khakis and pressed green polo shirt as Anna.

"Yeah," Anna nods. "How the fuck did you do that? Where are all of your clothes coming from? I can't imagine you have a terribly large stockpile of human clothes? Is it that easy for you to conjure stuff?"

"No," Elsa says. "Conjuring is hard. I can create food because of a magical artifact my mother owned- that was fairly difficult to recover, let me tell you- but generally speaking, no. Conjuring is very very difficult. The chairs I created back in my cave are just blocks of compressed air with an illusion layered over them."

"So…" Anna thinks for a moment. "Your clothes are…"

"Illusions," Elsa replies. "Yes."

"So you're naked?" Anna blushes.

Elsa shrugs. "Not any more than I am in my true form. Shouldn't we be leaving?"

"God," Anna glances down at Elsa's slender body and tries not to imagine what it looks like under the illusion. "Yeah, um. Yeah?"

The drive to Anna's store is short and uneventful. Anna spends the journey trying- and failing- to concentrate on the road. Elsa peers quietly out the window, and studies the passing human town.

"Oaken's Trading Post," Elsa reads aloud. "Who's Oaken? I thought you owned it?"

"I do," Anna grins. "Oaken is my last name."

"Your last name?" Elsa repeats with a frown. "Humans have more than one name? That explains quite a lot."

"Dragons don't have last names?" Anna thinks for a moment. "Actually, yeah, that makes sense I guess. If you just pick whatever you think sounds nice or whatever, I guess you just kind of lose the last name after a while?"

"Anna," Elsa says. She's smirking, but her eyes are sad. "There are fewer than five hundred members of my species. The chances are very low that anyone would want the same name that I do, and everyone knows everyone else. I suppose I could take some permutation of my mother's name as some sort of last name, but what would that really gain me? It wouldn't help any other member of my species identify me, and I don't think it would improve the sound or meaning of my name any."

"What is that?" Anna asks, opening her door and hopping down. "The meaning of your name, that is. What does Elsa mean?"

"Not entirely sure," Elsa says. "I gave it for you because it's the closest human sounding name to what my mother called me. 'Elshah,' is what she called me, before you ask. It means blizzard in my native tongue. She used it like an adjective. I usually call myself 'Elshavn,' since that's the nominative in the feminine declension."

"Elsahah?" Anna tries out the unfamiliar word. "Elsahavan?"

"No," Elsa laughs. "Please no. That's not it at all. Just Elsa is fine. I know that it's what you call me, so I know to reply to it."

"Ok, I guess," Anna shrugs. "Will you teach me draconic?"

"If you like," Elsa says. "Be warned, it is very complicated. My species lives forever, so we sometimes speak of things that happened a very long time ago, and of things that happened recently, and things that will happen soon, or in the future, or in the very very distant future, and about two dozen other tenses- not counting the conditionals. And of course, there are the masculine and feminine declensions, and the masculine and feminine honorifics, and the masculine and feminine prey beasts- erm. Lesser species? Bullocks. Um, not dragon creatures? And. Um. The genderless declensions, and… Well, anyway, it's not a simple language."

Anna is giggling now. "Sounds like it," she says. "Still, if it's the language you are most comfortable with, I want to be able to talk to you in it."

"That is very good of you," Elsa says, with a weird rumbling sort of noise. Not quite a growl, and not quite a hum. Somewhere in between, maybe. "I very much appreciate the sentiment. We shall see if you hold to it when faced with the challenge of actually learning a new language, but I do appreciate the thought."

Anna gives a great, broad, grin. "Sure," she says, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Yeah. No problem silly lizard."

"Shall we go in then?" Elsa asks. "Stupid primate."

Anna is wearing a huge ear to ear grin as she leads her dragon through her shop's are glass doors.

 **AN: goddamn. 1750 views? I need to get drunk more often XD A thousand-and-one thanks for everyone that has followed/favorited/reviewed. All things need fuel to keep going, and these three things are story fuel, so huge round of applause (provided you're enjoying the story, that is) for everyone who follows/favorites/reviews.**


	8. Chapter 8

"Olaf," Anna says cheerfully. "This is Elsa. She'll be your new coworker for a while." Olaf is dressed identically to the two girls. He's short, and young, with blond hair, and happy blue eyes.

"Hi Elsa!" he totters over to her, and twines his slender, geeky, arms around her waist. "I'm Olaf, and I like warm hugs!"

"Olaf?" She says, tensing up, and shying away as best she can, trapped by Olaf's enthusiastic hug. He nods happily. "Touch me again, and I shall pull your spleen out through your anus," she growls.

"Oh, Elsa," Anna laughs, but pulls Olaf off her anyway. "Don't be such a stinker. You gave me like a bazillion warnings."

"Yes," Elsa straightens her shirt unnecessarily. "Make of that what you will."

"Hmmph," Anna says. She thinks a moment, then grins brilliantly. "Well, no spleens, and no anuses. Just… let him show you around?"

"Very well," Elsa agrees. She speaks as if the words themselves are distasteful- it's not every day that a dragon bends her will to anyone else's.

"She's scary," Olaf whispers as loudly as he can, which, of course, quite defeats the purpose of a whisper.

"I know," Anna whispers back. "But here's a secret. Promise not to tell anyone?" Olaf nods. "Elsa's actually really really nice, just… maybe don't touch her?"

Olaf nods seriously, seizes Elsa's slender hand, and tugs her deeper into the store. She directs a pained glare over her shoulder, but follows anyway.

"Over there's the hiking poles," Olaf says, voice fading out of Anna's hearing as he pulls the dragon deeper into the store. "Backpacks there, canteens and shit that way…"

Anna smiles and sits behind the front desk. At least it doesn't sound like Olaf is getting himself eaten. She powers up her computer, and sighs loudly. A few days away has produced a simply unbelievable amount of paperwork. Anna connects her cellphone to the speakers on her desk, queues up the first song, and settles down to work. The song ends, and another begins. Then another. She gets lost in her work. There's something oddly peaceful in doing work you despise.

"What language is that?" Elsa asks. She's gotten up next to Anna somehow, without her noticing. Damn, that lizard can be stealthy when she wants to. "I know every language, and I've never heard that one before. What is it?"

"You know every language?" Olaf asks, hurrying over.

"Hush, chattering monkey," Elsa snaps. "What is that language? It's beautiful." She sways gently, like a snake rising from an ancient middle eastern serpent tamer's basket.

"It's music," Anna giggles. "You've never heard music before?"

"Music," Elsa closes her eyes for a moment, and makes that odd half growl half hum noise again. "What nation speaks music? I should like very much to live there."

"No one speaks music," Anna laughs again. "It's not a language. It's just something humans do."

"Two redeeming things," Elsa says blissfully. "Your species has two redeeming traits. Bacon, and music."

"Here," Anna says cheerfully. "I'll put it on the intercom so you can hear it from anywhere in the store."

"Oh thank you!" Elsa exclaims. Her eyes are still closed, and she's still making that sound in the back of her throat. She stands like that, gently swaying, through the end of the song. Anna doesn't have the heart to order her back to work.

"You two are so cute together!" Olaf shatters the moment like a pane of plate glass. "Where'd you find your Elsa? Can I have one?"

"Probably not?" Elsa says after an awkward moment. It's not phrased like a question, but it sounds like one. "To my knowledge there is only one Elsa and she's already being courted." The door chimes as it opens. "Look!" Elsa exclaims. "Literally anything else." She studies the newcomer for a long second. "Welcome ma'am," she says. "How can I help you?"

"No! Elsa," Anna hisses. "That's a guy."

"But you said…" Elsa frowns, and studies the man again. "Boobs?"

"No, he's just fat," Anna hisses. "Sorry about that sir, she's not from here. How can I help you?"

"Um." The man thinks for a moment. "I think I'll just go to REI instead." He turns, and starts to open the door again.

"Sir," Elsa says suddenly. There's a note of command in her raspy voice. "You do not want to go to our competitor- this REI place, I assume."

"Why not?" He pauses, but his voice is hostile.

"My name is Elsa," she says. "I'm not from here, and it is very difficult to learn what is and is not ok to say. If I have caused offense, I apologize; I certainly didn't mean to offend. This is Anna. She owns this place. She's really nice, but she doesn't think things through."

"I'm sure you're very nice girls," he says, but Elsa barrels ahead.

"What do you think virtue is?" She asks.

"Um." The man shrugs. "To… uh… love and serve God I guess?"

"Isn't your God a creature of forgiveness?" Elsa asks. "Wouldn't it be virtuous to forgive Anna, for her innocent slip of the tongue? Look, this is Olaf. It's impossible to dislike him. You don't need to buy anything, but why don't you tell him what you want, and let him show you around a bit? Maybe you'll find what you were looking for?"

"Um," the man shrugs. "Sure I guess. Olaf?"

"Yes!" Olaf grins, and takes him by the hand. "How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for some hiking boots I guess?" And with that, Olaf is leading him away, and gushing about stitching, and support, and waterproofing. When they are out of sight, Elsa courtesies stiffly to Anna.

"Wow," Anna gasps. "More of that definitely. Less of the mixing up gender, and more of that. How did you even?"

"It's not so hard to get people to do what you want if you're clever," Elsa makes her clicking laughing noise. "I had him as soon as he stopped- introducing yourself makes you real, you see, and it would have been too awkward for him to leave real people like that. Primates are very simple."

"I don't know whether to be impressed that you got him so easily, or offended that you called me simple." Anna frowns, but it's a joking, cheerful, sort of frown. "Can I be both?"

"You can be whatever you want," Elsa smiles pleasantly.

"Have you ever manipulated me like that?" Anna asks.

"Anna," Elsa blinks slowly, then again. Anna holds her breath. "All interaction is manipulation. You don't want me to eat you when I wake up, so you cook bacon. You want to seduce me, so you try to make me happy. You try to make me happy, so you want to learn my language. You want customers to regard you positively so they will buy things from you. You treat your friends kindly so they will continue being your friends. You want people to perceive you as happy, so you smile, or you want them to perceive you as sad, so you frown, or laugh, or cry, or do whatever is appropriate to convey the emotion of your choice. I want you not to be afraid of me, so I let you touch my face, and I want you to understand me so I answer your questions, and I want to come across as human- as relatable, at least, so I pretend to laugh or smile, or wear clothes, or frown, or even speak your language. Am I manipulating you? All interaction is manipulation, so yes. Yes I am. But then, you are manipulating me, and that horrid Kristoff person, and that annoying little Olaf person, and everyone else you have ever interacted with."

"Hmm." Anna thinks for a moment. "Were you manipulating me just then?"

"I was speaking," Elsa nods. "Definitionally yes."

"Oh." Anna frowns for a moment. "And I'm manipulating you right now?"

"Yes," Elsa clicks.

"Hmm." Anna grins suddenly. "How about I forgive you if you let me buy you ice cream after work?"

"Is that another euphemism?" Elsa asks. Anna shakes her head vigorously. "Then I accept your offer."

The rest of the day goes by in a shockingly uneventful blur. Even Anna's dreaded paperwork is made tolerable by Elsa's cheerful enjoyment of the music. They skip lunch, more because it's already late afternoon- almost closing time- before they notice, rather than any sort of deliberate choice. Almost before Anna realizes that any time has passed, Olaf is locking away the rifle rack, and pulling down the anti-burglary shutters, and it's time to go.

Anna turns off the light, locks the door, and moves to take Elsa's hand, but thinks better of it at the last moment. She stands awkwardly for a moment, and flaps her hand at the air, and says, "ahem. I'll um. I'll lead the way, shall I?" Elsa grimaces theatrically, and slips her dainty hand into Anna's.

"Right." Anna gives the hand a probing squeeze. It squeezes back, and she jumps slightly. "Yes. This way. Shall we?" She wears a huge ear to ear grin all four blocks to the ice cream shop. Elsa walks oddly, constantly varying her speed, and shifting her grip, and glowering at everyone they pass. For Anna, the glowing neon lettering of the sign outside the ice cream parlor comes too soon. For Elsa, it comes much too late, and she disentangles herself with a small, relieved, huff as soon as Anna stops.

"So," Anna bounces in place. "This is the ice cream shop. Our little town has only got one, assuming you don't want nasty tub stuff from a grocery. I'm paying, so get whatever you want. They've got waffle cones dipped in chocolate, with sprinkles, and you can get more chocolate and more sprinkles mixed in with your ice cream and it's really really good, and let's go in now, ok?"

Elsa nods.

"Ok," Anna holds the door open, but lets it hit Elsa when she releases the handle and dashes to the counter. Elsa doesn't mention it. "So that's Marshmallow," she gestures to the hulking albino behind the counter. Marshmallow waves back shyly. "He's Kristoff's b-f. That means boy friend." Elsa blinks. "So they go on dates?" Anna prompts.

"What's a date?" Elsa cocks her head, and peers down into the display.

"It's like," Anna thinks for a moment. "So like, you go up to someone you like- like romantically like- and god that's too many likes, and you ask if they want to go get something to eat, and if they say yes, you go on a date where you eat food and talk, and try to get to know each other better." Anna grins proudly.

"So, is this a date?" Elsa blinks slowly.

"I mean," Anna scratches the back of her head, and scuffs her shoe against the smooth linoleum. "Do you want it to be a date?"

"Sure," Elsa shrugs. She shrugs again and tilts her head. "I do not object to learning more about you."

Anna turns away quickly to hide the grin that threatens to split her head clear in half. "Uh. Marsh. Um."

"One of the usual," he says quietly. "Of course. Elsa, no?" Elsa nods cautiously, and he continues. "You want I can give you a sample, no?"

She shrugs. "I should like to try the chocolate- assuming you have some, that is- Anna keeps going on about it."

"Yes, yes," Marshmallow nods calmly, as if he's afraid he'll break something if he moves too quickly. He limps over to the far freezer. "What kind of iced creams shop would we be if we didn't have chocolate? Hmm? I think I like you Elsa. You are good for our Anna. You have these eyes. Fierce eyes. Like you're not afraid to do anything to protect our Anna. I've seen your eyes before, hmm. There aren't so many eyes in this world. Maybe not so many people, and same people make their eyes the same? Your sample, no?" He hands her a tiny spoon, dwarfed further in his meaty fist.

"Where have you seen my eyes before?" Elsa tilts her head and blinks again. "I like this chocolate stuff. I think I shall have a small amount in a waffle cone of Anna's recommendation."

"Ooh! That one!" Anna points eagerly.

"Oh, here and there," Marshmallow shrugs his great shoulders, and begins scooping. "I have friends. They're in the army, yes? They have your eyes. Not so much ice in their eyes. Your eyes are like theirs, no? But blue, and like a cat's. No circles, in your eyes. All predatory. Diamonds, instead of circles. They have human eyes. Good human eyes. They get scary, but only if you hurt what they're protecting. Your eyes are scary all the time. Like you're looking for people that will attack our Anna before they do. Like you're a hunter, no? You are hurting. Your mother? You want to attack attack, before people hurt our Anna, hmm?"

"You talked to Kristoff," Anna laughs, and jabs halfheartedly across the counter at him.

"Hmm." Marshmallow hands Anna the first cone. "I talked to my Kristoff, yes. But I can still see it. It's in the way you're looking at me. Wondering if you have to kill me. I've seen those eyes too. In the Middle East. In a kids face, hmm? A kid with a bomb. You're wondering if I will hurt your Anna, no? If Anna is your Anna, not our Anna? Apologies, English is not my first language?"

"I do not know why you are talking about eyes," Elsa growls.

"Ah, when my Kristoff was thinking you killed someone. The someone that shot your mother, yes? I laughed. I said 'our little Anna wouldn't find someone that is so much a warrior.'" Marshmallow is scooping her ice cream, apparently oblivious to the shaking in her shoulders, and raspy breathing. "But yes," he continues. "I see now, you did kill someone. Lots of someone's. Someone's that hurt your mother, and you killed them all. You are good for our little Anna I think. There is a someone that hurt our little Anna. My Kristoff, he would not like me telling you this, but he likes his law a little too much I think. So there is this someone, that hurt our little Anna, and your eyes are, I think, just right."

"Why don't you protect MY Anna then?" Elsa hisses.

"I took a promise," Marshmallow nods sadly. "When I became a- how you say it- army doctor, I took a promise, yes? 'I will not be hurting people,' I said. And when I take a promise, I am not to be breaking it. I am like our little Anna, I think. So I am not breaking my promise, but you have not made this promise, yes? If this someone tries to hurt our little Anna, you and your fierce, warrior eyes will be ready I think."

"I'm right here, you know," Anna says. She licks her cone quickly to keep it from spilling. "I can take care of myself," she insists.

Elsa ignores her, and stares deep into Marshmallow's eyes. Neither blinks.

"Hello?" Anna asks.

Finally, Marshmallow closes his eyes, holds them that way for a moment, and opens them again. "You are like a cat," he decides aloud. "Anna, your Elsa is like a cat. You should be reading about how to tame a cat. Your Elsa is wild, and like a cat." Elsa growls, but he continues. "Ah. Peace. You do not need to show your fierce eyes to me, I think. But here, I said I do not be breaking promises, and I think you believe me, no? Here's a promise you will like, I think. I will not be hurting you or our Anna. I will not be saying things that I think you are not wanting me saying, to other peoples, and I am not holding against you the someone's you killed, hmm?"

"You know I speak Norwegian, right?" Elsa asks. She doesn't sound polite, but she isn't growling anymore either.

"I know, yes," Marshmallow hands her cone across the counter. "But you are not speaking in your native language I am thinking, so I am not speaking in mine."

"Would you like to know what I think?" Elsa asks. Marshmallow nods calmly, so she snatches her cone and continues. "I don't know about this eye thing you're talking about. Eyes don't change, biologically speaking. They contract and dilate, but they aren't fierce or protecting, or anything else, so I don't know what you're talking about, but I can hear your heart, and when you were lying, it sped up. I think you killed that kid you were talking about- that one that you said had the same eyes as me, but you weren't lying when you made your promise. Anna, I think I like this Marshmallow person."

"Oh thank god," Anna sighs. "You both like each other. Now Elsa, can we please go outside and watch the cars go past, and talk about stuff that isn't so serious?"

"Of course," Elsa replies. She licks her cone and makes a small pleased sort of squeak.

"You like chocolate?" Anna grins, and holds the door.

"Not as much as bacon," Elsa shrugs, and makes her way over to the bench. "And I don't like the milk stuff that's in it, but yeah, the chocolate isn't bad."

"Oh," Anna says. "That's good I guess. Um."

"What's your favorite element?" Elsa asks suddenly. "Mine's carbon. It has those four attachment points so you can make many strong structures with it. Good for building."

"Favorite element?" Anna snorts. "I've never really thought about it."

"Never thought about it?" Elsa takes a huge bite out of her ice cream, and Anna shudders. "How haven't you thought about it?"

Anna giggles and shrugs. "I don't think many humans have a favorite element." She thinks for a moment. "I guess helium? It makes you talk funny. You mentioned building? Are you an architect?"

"Yes!" Elsa grins. "Most of my race likes to play around with architecture. There's this free standing staircase I built a while back that's an exercise in fractal circularity. Each step is circular, see, and balanced on the one below it- I didn't use mortar or magic or anything- and the staircase itself is a spiral, but the spiral is also twisted so that it's also a spiral."

"Wow," Anna replies. "I'd really like to see that some time. What el…" Elsa vomits loudly.

The dragon shakes herself vigorously, waves her hand, and the mess is gone. "Sorry about that," she says. "What were you saying?"

"What? Elsa!" Anna stands. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Elsa says. "I am well."

"What happened?" Anna waves her hands helplessly around Elsa, but takes care not to touch her.

"I am a reptile. I'm not built to digest milk stuff." Elsa shrugs. "It's not a big deal." She goes to take another bite, but Anna grabs her wrist.

"You mean," Anna opens and closes her mouth a few times but no sounds comes out. "You mean you totally knew this was going to happen, and you ate it anyway?"

"Of course," Elsa blinks a few times. "It was clearly important to you."

"No!" Anna is pacing now. She licks her ice cream as emphatically as she can. "No! You can't just do things that'll hurt you just because you think it's important to me or whatever."

"I don't understand," Elsa cocks her head. The cone drips on her hand so she licks it off. Anna glares at her. "I decided that the benefit of pleasing you by participating in something that you wanted to share with me, far outweighed the cost of nausea. Did I miscalculate somewhere?"

"What?" Anna huffs. "No? I don't? What?" She growls very deliberately at Elsa. "Look, um? It makes me, um. Sad? Yeah. It makes me sad when you eat something you shouldn't. And that sad is more than the happy I get when I share things with you. Um. So you shouldn't do it. And if I offer you something you think will make you sick or whatever, you should say no. Because Elsas deserve not to be sick." Anna nods self righteously.

"Ok," Elsa says, and licks her cone again.

"What the flaming titties did I just say?" Anna asks. "For fucks sake, stop eating the icecream!"

"Ok," Elsa says.

"Ok," Anna replies. She stands there for a moment. "I'm going to sit now. Don't you dare eat that or I'll boop your head."

"Humans are so confusing," Elsa grumbles. "Would you like the rest then?"

"Sure. Let me finish mine first. Just hold onto it until then." Anna plops down beside her dragon defiantly. Like a great hero returning from the field of battle.

"It's leaking," Elsa mutters. "It's making me smell like chocolate."

"You'll be fine," Anna says. "Hey, speaking of you being fine. How's it coming with those humanists? Any news?"

"Everyone in town smells like magic now," Elsa grumbles. "It hurts my nose. I think it was the agent trying to disguise me."

"How could that happen?" Anna asks. "What would be the point?"

"To confuse their machines, probably," Elsa shrugs. "If I were to guess, I would say someone conjured a large amount of water, and introduced it to your town's water supply. If you drink it and your body incorporates magical water, or food, or anything else, well, that magical food or water or whatever is still giving off magic. It's harmless, but it should muddy the waters a bit. Honestly, I was going to do something similar."

"And it's completely harmless?" Anna finishes her cone.

"Completely," Elsa assures her.

"Well," comes a saccharine, masculine voice. It belongs to a tall, copper haired man with sideburns. "Still into your little make-believe Anna?"

"Hans," Anna says. She meant to say it loudly, defiantly, but it comes out as more of a whisper and she folds in on herself.

"Thanks, you shouldn't have," he says, gesturing at Elsa's dripping cone. "I didn't think to call ahead." He snatches it from her pale, chocolate-streaked hands. The bottom third stays clenched in her hand, but Hans gets most of it. He slurps from the narrow bottom, and drops the remainder. Elsa's deceptively dainty hand twitches, and she lets the now pulverized crumbs fall beside the bench. She stands.

"Elsa," Anna pleads, and grabs her hand. "Please, don't do anything."

"Please don't do anything?" Hans scoffs. "I'm just here to talk. It's been awhile Anna. I just wanted to see you, is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes," Anna mutters. Elsa shifts slightly so that she's standing between the two redheads. She holds her head low, and aggressive, like she's coiled to strike.

"Look," he raises his hands, as if to say that he's unarmed, maybe that he means no harm. The fact that he has to go out of his way to signal his good intent does nothing to reassure Elsa. She doesn't move, so he talks around her. "Why'd you leave, Anna?"

"You know perfectly well why," Anna says quietly.

"I don't," Hans insists. "You and I were just meant to be. Why don't you get that?"

"You hit me Hans," Anna says, more loudly, and more confidently with Elsa as a shield. "I've still got scars. You hit me a lot. Sometimes you used your hands, sometimes you used your belt. One time, you even used a beer bottle."

"I apologized," Hans insists. "Look, I said I was sorry. Can you make your bodyguard get out of the way? I just want to talk."

"I forgave you," Anna replies. "I forgave you over and over again. Each time, I forgave you. I'm done forgiving you. I don't want to get hit again."

"Anna," Hans says, but whatever else he was going to say, Elsa cuts him off.

"I think you should leave," she says. Her voice is raspy still, but smooth, somehow. Like what Anna has always imagined a cobra might sound like, if cobras could speak, like how Kaa sounds when he's getting ready to eat Mowgli. Anna shudders, and suddenly she believes that when Elsa says that Anna hasn't seen her scary, she's telling the truth.

Hans sneers, and lashes out, strikes Elsa full across the face, but she doesn't blink, and she doesn't flinch. The impact wholly fails to move her head, and doesn't leave a mark. Elsa blinks slowly. Hans laughs like it doesn't matter, but he's shaking his hand, and he takes a step back.

"Hey!" Anna tries to push her way around elsa, but the dragon does not move. "Leave Elsa alone! Elsa, you ok?"

"I'll be back Anna," he says, "and I'll make you love me again." He turns stiffly, and leaves.

Elsa starts after him, but Anna's grip on her hand stops her short. She had quite forgotten that Anna was holding her hand. She blinks down at it in surprise. Elsa's movements are smooth, and lethal. Like a jaguar moving in for the kill, and Anna sees abruptly that kill is precisely what Elsa means to do.

"Elsa," Anna's voice is shaking and weak. "Please, just please don't."

"He stole from me," Elsa replies in that same too-smooth predatory voice.

"The ice cream?" Anna gives a tenuous laugh. "You weren't going to eat it anyway. It makes you sick, remember?"

"It's the principle of the matter," Elsa snaps. "YOU DO NOT STEAL FROM A DRAGON!"

Anna laughs again- a stronger, more real, sort of laugh- and gives Elsa's hand a gentle tug. The dragon allows herself to be pulled back to her seat.

"You know he's going to continue to be a problem, right?" Elsa asks. "I know how this goes. If you don't let let me kill him now, he's going to keep bothering you, and you're going to say things like 'oh Elsa, he's not worth it,' and I'm going to keep not killing him. Then he'll find out that I'm a dragon, and tell the humanists, and he won't be in the group that attacks me, so he won't die when they do. I'll see him later when I go to their lair to take revenge or exterminate them or whichever, but he will throw himself at my feet and beg for mercy and you will say 'oh Elsa, you can't kill someone that surrenders,' and I'll listen to you like a human fool, and let him live, and later, he will go back on his word and attack me and kill himself with his own folly so that I can stay unambiguously in the right. Is this what you want? Does this seem like a good thing?"

"Yeah," Anna nods. "Pretty much. You've been reading too much of my fiction."

"I have," Elsa concedes. "But do you know why it's fiction? Because I am not like that. If there is a problem, it is my nature to remove the problem. And if someone surrenders to me, I have none of your silly human obligations to accept their surrender. Certainly not if I think they'll be a problem again later."

"I know," Anna smiles. "I'm not sure I can even really complain about any particular point there," she shrugs awkwardly. "I'm just a dumb human I guess, but it doesn't really sit right. Can I touch your hair?"

Elsa shrugs, and Anna runs her freckled fingers through Elsa's long, silky white hair. Anna owned a cat once. A vicious little bastard she called "Ploof." It only let her pet it's stomach once, but she has never forgotten how soft its tummy was. She knows now, running her fingers through Elsa's thick white tresses, that she will forget how soft Ploof was, because Elsa's hair is a thousand times softer.

Elsa makes that half-growl-half-hum noise again, and closes her eyes.

"Are you purring?" Anna asks. Elsa nods silently, without opening her eyes, and leans into her. She doesn't see Anna's titanic smile, but the petting doesn't stop, so she doesn't stop purring.

 **AN: so, the best element is clearly radon. It's odorless, colorless, tasteless, and it's a radioactive gas! It can give you radiation poisoning without you ever knowing anything is wrong! How cool is that? It's like freaking iocane powder except aerosolized, and you can't build up a tolerance to it! God I love radon.**

 **Also, there were way too many references this chapter, and not only to frozen. I am so sorry.**

 **also, also, 40 followers! Really? For me? Everyone pat yourselves on the back. This mega-chapter is for you. Thanks for all your support.**

 **Edit: added two lines to the Hans scene to make Anna feel like a little less of a wet rag.**


	9. Chapter 9

"Anna?" Elsa asks suddenly, as they walk back to the car.

"Yeah?" She turns slowly. The street lights make her sunny, coppery, hair shine like a halo.

"I want you to carry something with you," Elsa says. The lights make Anna's freckles disappear into the same yellowy, washed out, sort of shade as the rest of her face. Elsa likes Anna's freckles. Human faces always look too flat to the dragon, lacking in detail, almost. Anna's freckles give her character. It's the thing that first caught her attention. Elsa snarls up at the light.

"This is a communication device," Elsa says after a moment. She produces a small, golden brooch, covered in strange runes. Single, mostly straight lines. Marks a dragon might carve into a stone tablet with its claws, maybe. "A communication device created by my people. It's not so different from your phone, I think. You press this letter here. It's the first letter of my alphabet- makes a 'th' sound, when you pronounce it. It also means strength, or power. The majority of our- we would call it technology, you would call it magic- uses this for an activation symbol."

Anna nods, so Elsa taps it, and a glowing blue interface appears. "This is the… I don't know in your language. It's sort of the cover page? You can navigate to the device's various chapters from here- that is, it's functions? There are a few games here, attached to these letters here, my list of contacts here, and so on. This letter here, we call the 'an.'" She points to a simple, horizontal, bar, but does not press it. "We pronounce it in precisely the same manner as its name. It signifies respect in the nominative. If you want to address- or speak of- someone you respect greatly, someone older than you, or of a higher station, you preface their name with 'an.' Sorry. I'm sure I'm boring you."

"Not at all," Anna grins eagerly. "I want to know everything about your culture. What were you saying about this 'an' letter?"

"Right," Elsa tilts her head to the side. "It signals respect, and in my culture, you go to those you respect when you need assistance. Not to an equal, or someone of nearly equal station- you don't want to show weakness, you understand. But someone enough above you to deserve the 'an' prefix, well, it doesn't matter much if you show them weakness. You're already so much lower than them, it doesn't matter. That isn't so true anymore. I guess you could say we've domesticated ourselves, in the recent centuries, but that's where the thought comes from. This letter- no! Don't press it now!" Anna snatches back her hand. "This letter automatically connects you to my species' emergency services. Do not press it unless you need help, but if you ever do need help, remember that it is better to look foolish than to need help and not ask."

"What would I say?" Anna asks. "I don't speak your language yet?"

"Just speak in whichever language you are most comfortable with," Elsa replies. "The dragon that answers will speak it too, I assure you. Just tell him who you are, tell him how you know me, and tell him what the problem is, and I promise you, the problem will get solved."

"That's," Anna shrugs helplessly, "wow. That's. That means a lot to me Elsa, thanks. Will it ever run out of batteries? Do you have a spare?"

"Yes," Elsa makes her laughing clicking noise. "I have an extra." She lies easily. Easily enough that Anna doesn't suspect her, at least. "I can teach you how to speak with me later if you wish. It will eventually run out of power, but, depending on how often you use it, not for several decades."

"Wow!" Anna grins. She goes for a hug, but no, Elsa doesn't like being touched. She stops herself. Elsa grimaces, and gives her an awkward pat on the head. Anna grins. "So, you're a lot older than I am, I'm guessing. And you're also a queen. Should I be calling you An-Elsa?" Anna giggles playfully.

"No!" Elsa snaps, then, more quietly, more kindly, "no, please. Just Elsa is fine." She offers her hand grimly, and Anna takes hold with a terrific grin.

The walk back to Anna's car is short and uneventful, as is the drive back to her home. As soon as Anna has closed the front door behind them, Elsa gives a long, weary, sigh, and abandons her human shape. Anna jumps slightly, but doesn't run.

"It's still early," Anna says cheerfully. She makes to pat Elsa's slender snout, and jumps slightly when the pale dragon nuzzles up against her hand. "Um." Anna grins. "Want to watch a movie?"

"I have no objections," Elsa nods. The blunt knuckles of her wings thud hollowly against the hardwood floors of Anna's home. The jagged scales around the retracted claws gouge scratches in the dark wood, fairly minor damage, compared to the deep canyons her great ivory hind talons leave behind. Anna decides not to comment on the damage.

"So," she says instead, rummaging through her DVD collection. "You don't like being touched?"

"That's correct," Elsa nods, and curls herself around the couch.

"But you're ok with holding hands?" Anna produces her copy of Fellowship, extended, of course.

"I read that mammals find physical touch to be an important display of affection," Elsa replies.

"So," Anna frowns as she inserts the disk and drops into the couch. "You don't actually enjoy it?"

"I allow physical contact because you enjoy it," Elsa blinks slowly. "My own enjoyment of physical contact, or lack thereof, is irrelevant. I had thought that was fairly clear. My goal in allowing physical contact is to satisfy your urge for intimacy. If my goal was otherwise, I would behave differently. You needn't worry. I am acting in the manner that best serves my purposes."

"It just," Anna pouts. "I want you to act real around me, you know?"

"There is some measure of miscommunication that is inevitable between members of different species," Elsa says carefully. "I am deliberately acting in a manner that you will find comprehensible. Several manners that you will find comprehensible. How is that different from speaking in a language that you understand? If I were to behave in a manner consistent with my culture's courtship rituals, you would not understand any more than if I were to speak nothing but draconic to you. It seems likely, even, that you would perceive me a threat, were I to act 'genuinely,' but that does not mean that the contact I allow is false somehow. It is still a gesture of kindness- and I think therefore affection- for me to hold your hand, knowing that you will get enjoyment out of it. Do you understand?"

"Wow," Anna tilts her head back, and peers over the armrest at her dragon. "You're really considerate. I never thought of it like that. Now I feel a bit like an ass. What are good courtship thingies in your culture?" She giggles self-consciously.

"It's more complicated than I think you guess," Elsa shuffles her wings, and wraps herself in the tough, scaly, membrane. "I think I mentioned the other day, my kind doesn't really do marriages as you're conceiving of them. There is no implicit agreement of sexual intercourse or fidelity, though many draconic 'marriages' did result in offspring before we moved to our eugenics program, and no dragon would ever betray their… mate… the way that human infidelity seems to. I suppose the closest human analogue to a draconic 'marriage' would be two very very good friends agreeing to live together forever. Of course, if you are successful in your courtship, I suspect we will have to negotiate a compromise that both parties find agreeable, but that is quite beside the point... and the point is... I would rather not tell you what my race does for courtship. Something that our cultures seem to have in common is the importance placed on effort. You see, if I told you what sort of actions are considered 'romantic' in draconic culture, and you were to go out and do all of them the next day, that wouldn't be romantic. If you were instead to go through the effort of figuring those things out without my direction, that would be romantic. Do you understand?" Anna nods uncertainly, but she's not entirely sure that she does. She frowns.

"Shall we watch your movie now?" Elsa asks, with her now familiar clicking noise.

"Yes!" Anna exclaims. "You're in for a treat. This is seriously a great movie. And like super influential. Like D&D is basically all this, but like a game? And I should just start it, shouldn't I?" She queues up the movie.

"Ooh!" Elsa purrs. "It has music!"

"Yeah," Anna laughs. "The soundtrack's pretty awesome."

They are mostly silent through the movie, though Elsa sometimes makes her clicking noise, and gives a little huff of annoyance whenever Frodo reaches for the ring, and lets out a startled squeak when the ring wraiths first appear, and growls softly at Sauron. Anna spends more time watching- and listening to- Elsa than she does paying attention to the movie. She finds it adorable how Elsa jerks her head back whenever she's startled, and how Elsa tilts her head almost a quarter circle to the side whenever the movie takes an unexpected turn. Anna is fascinated by the tiny movements of Elsa's throat, and the odd transparent membrane that sometimes blinks over her big blue eyes, and the way her spines stand out almost straight when she growls.

At one point, about a third of the way through the movie, Anna says that she's cold, and makes to grab a blanket, but before she can, Elsa wordlessly sweeps one great, pale, wing over the back of the couch, and wraps it around Anna like a big, scaly, quilt.

"Thanks," Anna says, and squirms for a moment. She pats Elsa's wing contentedly. It's warm under the dragon's wing, like an electric blanket, though dragons are, of course, cold blooded. There is a faint thrumming too, from the blood vessels so near the surface. The movie finishes entirely too quickly, in Anna's opinion. Elsa stands abruptly, reclaims her wing, and let's out a menacing chainsaw-sound of a growl.

"No fair," she snarls. Her tail lashes, and Anna fears for her furniture. "Not only does your play end in media res, but they kill my favorite character as well."

"Who?" Anna eyes Elsa's tail nervously. "Gandalf? Don't worry. He…"

"No," Elsa replies icily. She sees Anna's nervous stare, and holds herself still. "Not sodding Gandalf, Boromir. They killed Boromir! How dare they?"

"Um." Anna shrugs helplessly. "Does this mean you don't want to see the rest?"

"Of course I want to see the rest," Elsa clicks. "Silly monkey. I love epics! And it has music. How much more is there?"

"Two more movies," Anna laughs. "Five more if you count The Hobbit, but I'm not so sure that's a good idea…"

"I course it's a good idea," Elsa replies. "I should like very much to watch them all with you."

"Sure!" Anna grins. "Tomorrow, we'll watch another. After work."

"We work tomorrow too?" Elsa's raspy voice has a note of panic in it. "At the same time?"

"Yup, every day at the same time," Anna feigns sadness. A giggle undermines her facade. "Except Saturday and Sunday."

"How do humans live?" A shudder travels down Elsa's body, from the tapered tip of her nose to the barbed end of her tail.

"By getting to bed at a reasonable hour," Anna shrugs. "That's what my mum always said, at least, but I'm pretty bad at it."

"Hmpfh," Elsa says matter of factly. "Well then, I think I shall take a bath before bed. Will you be joining me?"

"Will I be what?" Anna splutters. "Will I… Why?"

"Are baths not communal anymore?" Elsa asks, and slides smoothly into her frowning, blond, human shape.

"Um," Anna flushes. "Rome. Rome did that. Also Japan I guess? Why do you even want to… It's not like… you keep talking about how dragons don't make a big deal out of…"

"I'm confused," Elsa cocks her head. She blinks innocently, and Anna lets out a nervous laugh.

"Um. Clothes." Anna shrugs and scratches the back of her head. "It's kindof taboo in this culture to be seen without clothes. Um."

"Oh," Elsa shrugs. "I apologize. It was not my intent to make you uncomfortable."

"It's fine," Anna drops back into her couch. "Just took me by surprise. Why'd you ask?"

"It seemed more efficient," Elsa says. Then blushes- for the first time that Anna has seen. "And I wanted to see the scars that this Hans mammal gave you."

"Why?" Anna laughs- an entirely genuine laugh. "God. Why would you want to see that?"

"I'm sorry," Elsa dances nervously from foot to foot. "I didn't mean to offend. I wanted to know how much Hans hurt you."

"It's fine," Anna shrugs. She emulates Elsa's clicking noise as well as she can. "Here," she shrugs again, pulls her shirt over her head, and drops it on the cushion beside her. Her black silk bra glints blue in the dim light of the television. She turns. Freckles cover her skin like a light dusting of pale brown snow. She's blushing furiously, red like an apple.

Elsa hums appreciatively- the freckles give her a sort of cheerful, healthy, depth, but Anna is turning, and the light falls across the sharp blades of her shoulders, and casts a dark shadow along the shallow of her back, and glints off of the tangled knots of shiny white and pink and purple that cover her back like a fisherman's net. A low, rattling, hiss escapes Elsa's mouth like air from a very angry tire. "He will not die quickly," she vows.

"Let it go please," Anna pleads. "I forgave him. Please respect that. If I wanted to hurt him, I'd ask Marsh to call his army buddies."

"And Marshmallow shall die too," Elsa is pacing now. "For letting this happen, everyone will die. The streets will run red with blood."

"There's my Elsa," Anna mutters. "From zero to murder in six seconds flat. You know Hans was very careful to only hit me where it wouldn't show, right? The only way they could know, is if I told them."

Elsa stops, and blinks. "Fine," she resumes pacing. "Just Hans then. I am ripper, tearer, slasher, gouger. I am the teeth in the darkness, the talons in the night."

"You just quoted one of your epics, didn't you?" Anna asks. She crosses her arms, and plants herself in front of the prowling dragon.

"Yes," Elsa mutters. Her breathing is still furious and ragged. "Beowulf."

Anna grabs her hands. "No killing, okay?"

"Very well," Elsa frowns. "But you're not being rational."

"No," Anna concedes. "I'm not."

"And if he hurts you again," Elsa growls. "Or if I think it's terribly likely that he'll hurt you again, I shall remove his spine and cover him in chocolate prior to consumption."

In the morning, there is a massive pile of bacon and a pot of coffee waiting outside Elsa's door, and Anna's floor is covered with books on animal behavioral traits. The rest of the week passes quickly, and uneventfully. Each morning, bacon and coffee at the door, each evening, Lord of the Rings. It is the happiest either has been in years.

Almost 90 years ago

The car is new. Shiny and yellow, with big, bulbous, chrome headlights and a long, snarling engine. It is one of the first convertibles ever built- nothing but the best for his darling sister. The top is up. It was snowing yesterday, but it stopped some time in the night. Still, the air is frigid.

His butler sits behind the wheel, his sister sits in the passenger seat. She's in her late forties. She wears a thick coating of makeup, but it does very little to hide her wrinkles, and she dyes her hair, but it still has that dull, brittle, quality that greying hair seems to get. She binds her chest, and wears the same kinds of dresses as the younger generation- flappers, she thinks they're called- but it's clear that she doesn't belong on the dance floor, swing dancing with the kids, and she doesn't belong at the lavish parties that she is always invited to.

The back seat is filled with hat boxes, and trunks full of clothing, and elaborately wrapped gifts- a few dozen large boxes, but none of the gifts is worth more than a few dollars. Wedged in the corner, almost as an afterthought, her son, Alan, sits half buried beneath her luggage. He's nineteen or twenty. No one can ever seem to remember. He stares out the window, not quite forlornly, but certainly not with any sort of excitement.

The drive is short. Only two hours. Still, they only visit him- the enigmatic uncle Wesselton- once a year. His manor is an enormous pile of red brick and white columns, with a high, dark, roof. The grounds are expansive, and immaculately kept. There is a large garage, separate from the house, and a boathouse- but of course, the river is frozen over- and a guest house, and a separate building for the groundskeeper, and for the guards, and for the small legion of cleaning staff. It looks more like a small town than a manor. The vast lawn- perfect for playing polo, if he would ever invite anyone over- is covered in a thick snowy blanket, and the pines have a dusting of white clinging to their dark branches. The whole compound is surrounded by high hedges, but there is a heavy stone wall behind them, and a sturdy wrought iron gate at the lone entrance.

Even this familiar yellow convertible- probably one of a kind- is stopped at the gate. There are guards, dressed in long, grey coats- the kind worn by the fire brigade- and carrying odd all-metal rifles. New, German repeaters, Alan thinks.

Wordlessly, professionally, the guards peer through the windows, and motion the car through. It pulls up in front of the sprawling manor house.

Adelaide, Alan's mother, has to open her own door- like the hoi polloi. She spends five minutes insulting the driver. That's how Alan knows the trip is going well- it's only five minutes.

They find uncle Wesselton in his study. It's a big room, carpeted in plush grey. The scaled, crimson, pelt of some titanic reptile hangs on the back wall- only part of the pelt, if the lack of distinguishing features is any guide. Grainy black-and-white photographs cover the huge mahogany desk, and line the walls. Bookshelves, and display cases full of rare insects, and lion pelts, and tiger claws, and boar tusks, and even a stuffed bear also decorate the wood paneling.

"Hey!" Uncle Wesselton exclaims when they walk in. He stands, and holds his arms wide for a hug. "Alan! Adelaide! You came!" Every year, Adelaide says they might not be able to make it, and each year they come anyway. He always greets them with excitement and surprise. He looks young. In his early twenties, probably, though he's the same age as his sister. Adelaide accepts the hug. Alan does not.

Dinner is an elaborate affair, as always, and Adelaide has too much champagne, as always. The servants have escorted her to her room before the meal has even ended.

"How old are you now?" Uncle Wesselton asks abruptly, standing.

"Twenty, last May," Alan shrugges.

"Ah." Uncle Wesselton grins. "I thought so. I guess you're old enough. You have to be. Won't get another visit. Been putting this off too long. Come with me, son." He leads Alan to his huge, exotic, study, and hands him one of the smaller photographs. It's old, for a photograph. The white has yellowed, the coating has cracked in a few places. The frame is new though. It shows hundreds of people, holding rifles, and standing over something big and scaled. The long, menacing, barrels of a pair of old artillery pieces jut aggressively over the orderly gaggle like a pair of tusks.

"What's this?" Alan asks. He glances almost subconsciously up at the great red hide.

"A hunting expedition," uncle Wesselton says. There's pride in his voice, but sadness too. "See that one there? His name was Otto. Otto the dragonslayer, is what we called him, after the fact. He led our little expedition. We were part of a hunting lodge. 'The Society For The Protection of Human Rights,' I think we called it? It's been a while, you understand. He was the Lodge Master. I think he was affiliated with some government or another. Otto's the one that got us those cannons, and let me tell you; we needed them. He's dead now though. Am I boring you?"

Alan shakes his head vigorously, so his uncle continues. "Well, there used to be more than two hundred of us that went on that exposition. That one there, the little one, between those two Swiss fellows, we called him Rodger. Don't know what his real name was, but whenever anyone asked him to do anything, he'd just salute, and say 'rodger.' He's dead now as well. This one here, with the hat, his name was Gilgamesh. No idea where he was from. We called him Father Gilgamesh, since he had this rosary that he was always praying with. He's gone now too. Oh, she was named Gretta. She was our cook. She wanted to sleep with everyone in the trip before it ended. She almost made it too. Now there's only me and old mister Johnson over in Tennessee, I think. And I haven't heard back from him in weeks."

"What happened to them all?" Alan asks. He hands back the picture.

"We made a mistake," uncle Wesselton sighs. "That's why I wanted to show this to you. I don't want you making the same mistake."

"What mistake, uncle?" Alan asks.

"We killed a dragon," the man replies, and for once, he looks every one of his nearly fifty years. "Before you say anything, yes, dragons are real. They live in caves, high up in the mountains, where humans don't ever go, and they've got treasure. More treasure than you can possibly imagine. Even splitting it up into two hundred parts, I could buy this mansion a dozen times over."

"I always did wonder how you made your fortune," Alan nods. "How'd you slay the beast? That's its hide, I imagine?"

"Yes," his uncle says. "But I wouldn't recommend joining the lodge, though I guess you're old enough. Sure, a dragon's treasure will last you for lifetimes, and that isn't even the most valuable of their possessions. Their blood keeps you young, if you drink it. Or it kills you, but a lot of people are willing to take that risk. That's what happened to a quarter of the expedition. Died. Some kind of disease, we think."

"Ah," Alan replies. "Then whatever happened to the rest…"

"Yes," his uncle says. He pours himself a few fingers of scotch. "You're a smart kid. Problem is, dragons are smart too. Smarter than people, I think, and if you don't get them all…"

"One of them will come for revenge," Alan finishes for him.

"I've got a few kegs of dragon's blood in the basement," the old man says after a moment. "A cup or two every year keeps you looking young, keeps you healthy. Any more, and I think it might be more likely to kill you. It's hard to say though. Not like anyone has ever really gotten an opportunity to study it. Two kegs should last quite a while, but I don't think I'll be around long enough to take advantage of that." It starts snowing. Just a few fluffy snowflakes flitting up to the glass and melting quickly. The man downs his glass, and pours himself another.

"You think a dragon's coming for you?" Alan asks. "To get revenge? That's why you've got all the guards. That's why you never invite anyone else over?"

"In my will, I've left everything to you," his uncle continues, as if Alan hadn't spoken. "Don't let your mother take the money. I love my sister, but you know she'll try. I've left instructions with my attorney. He'll help you. Play your cards right, and you could live for five hundred years or more. Hell, with the right investments, you could build your own Wesselton manor, and live like this for as long as you want."

"What about you?" Alan asks. "You've got soldiers. Guns. Can't you stop it? You killed one, why not another?"

"The others on my hunt had the same resources I do," the uncle replies. "It didn't seem to help them very much." He sighs. "Just, don't make the same mistakes. They were leaving us alone until we provoked them. With any luck, after they get the rest of us, they'll go back to leaving you alone."

The snow is falling more heavily now. Uncle Wesselton stands quietly by the window, and watches it fall. Alan stands with his uncle for a long few minutes.

"It's coming," Alan says, "isn't it?"

"It is." His uncle agrees. "It's been working its way around the globe. The hunt was in Norway. Everyone who stayed in Norway died first. At first we thought it was blood-sickness, but then, one by one, the people in Europe started dying. Then Africa. Then Asia, and Indonesia. I expect old mister Johnson's dead by now. I always thought it would come in the winter."

That's when the gunfire starts. Quick burps of automatic rattling, cries of terror and agony, then silence. Uncle Wesselton downs the glass, and takes up the decanter. Gunfire bangs out again, closer this time. There's a thunderous crash. Another deep boom a few minutes later, and the carved oak door rattles in its frame. Another boom, and it buckles in the middle. A third, and it bursts free from its hinges and clatters hollowly across the floor. There, in the empty doorway, is a silvery shape, about the size of a lion. It takes a few hesitant steps forward.

It's wearing armor, Alan realizes abruptly. Some kind of silvery, seamless, mesh. Glowing blue eyes stud the armor. One of them is cracked, but the rest swivel about the room, seemingly at random. The whole suit looks utterly ridiculous, from the blunt, bladed snout, to the awkward, mesh-draped wings, to the stupid glowing eyes, to the long, spined, tail. Little starburst donuts of spent cordite speak testament to its efficacy though. Ridiculous as it looks, the armor must be nigh impregnable.

"Ek Elshavn," it says. "Lgogan dhovssahse andrgohng?" Its voice is sillibant and raspy, but insistent.

"I don't understand you," uncle Wesselton says. "I'm sorry. I don't know if that means anything to you, but I'm sorry."

"Ehnglish," it says. It spits the word out like a curse. "Tey hhav awl sayd tat. Yer werds mkheen no ting." It stalks closer in a wide half circle.

The man takes one last drink from the decanter, and hands it to his nephew. He raises his palms in surrender. "I'm not going to try to run," he says. "I'm not going to fight either. You're going to kill me, and I know that. Nothing I say will change that, and, well, that's all right. You're probably right. I did something horrible. Do you understand me?" The silver clad head nods slowly. "So, you know, I'm not pleading for my life. I don't hope to gain anything by this. I just want you to know that I'm sorry."

The dragon prowls closer, then, a flash of silver, and a lash of its tail, and uncle Wesselton falls to the floor, blood soaking into the plush grey carpet, grey on red.

It turns, and Alan feels that it is staring him down, though it's dozens of faux eyes still twitch around the room. It seems to make up its mind one way or another, and walks, almost slithers, to the window. The wall around the leaded, diamond, panes shatters, and explodes outward, though the dragon doesn't touch it. The creature spreads its armored wings, and launches itself through the gaping, stormy, hole. The last Alan sees of it, before the whirling white obscures its sleek, silvery form, is its heavy, swooping, clumsily laboring climb away from the sprawling manor house.

 **AN: sorry this chapter took so long. I meant to have this chapter out early last week, but things happened, and also some stuff. As always, huge thank you to everyone who has followed/favorited/review, and special thanks to those of you that review each chapter. You know who you are. I never dreamed this story would be so well-liked. As always, review to get more of what you like, and less of what you don't, and follow/favorite to help the lazy author stay motivated to give you another chapter on time.**

 **Language notes:**

 **Caution: here be nerdiness.**

 **Most languages, especially the older ones, are inflected languages, which means that the meaning of a word can be changed somewhat by its ending, and sometimes also by a prefix. Take Latin, and Greek, for instance. In a previous chapter, I mentioned that dragons taught humans how to language, so it makes sense that draconic language would have a large number of similarities to some of the older human languages, hence, draconic is an inflected language. Of course, since lizards have very rigid lips, I figure there are probably some sounds that they have trouble making, and some sounds that humans can't make well, like long strings of consonants, they probably have an easier time with. Dragons, therefore, would necessarily have a very different alphabet and attempts by younger dragons to speak human languages would come out with a thick "accent."**

 **In most inflected languages, pronouns (I, you, they, etc.) are either implied by noun/verb endings, or use a very different conjugation system than normal nouns, depending on context and meaning. Therefore, the draconic word "ek," pronounced "ehk," in the back of the throat, almost like a really breathy cough, doesn't conform to any of the standard draconic declensions. Also, most inflected languages seem to use very similar words for "I" and the other pronouns. "Ego" (epsilon gamma omega) in the Greek, also "ego" in the Latin, but obviously with a different alphabet (the word, like much of latin, is probably derivative from the Greek), "je" in the French (note the continuation of the "e=I" theme). If we assume that all of these languages are ultimately derivative of draconic, we can assume that the "e" theme is present in draconic as well.**

 **If I wanted to say "I am ululate" in Latin, I could probably get away with saying "ululatus" where "-us" is a neuter nominative ending. This is how I would reply if someone asked what my name is. I would only need to actually say the pronoun if I wanted to stress that it is me who is ululate, "ululatus ego," for instance. I would use this, for example, if someone in my hearing were to call someone else by my name, and I wanted to correct them "no,** _ **I**_ **am ululate." Make of this what you will, in regards to Elsa's words in draconic.**

 **I based most of the draconic words I used (very loosely, and with very altered declensions) in Greek and Latin, since both are fairly old languages, and I don't actually know Sumerian. "andrgohng," for instance, meaning "human," or "prey-beast," or "lesser species," or "mammal," in draconic (they don't differentiate between the concepts usually) was based in the Greek word "andras" (alpha nu delta rho alpha sigma) which means "man" as in "human", or "a male individual," depending on the ending and context. It seems plausible, given the human ego, that a dragon in ancient times could have referred to a human as an "andrgohng," and humans within earshot could have assumed that it meant "human," without all of the assorted draconic connotations. Obviously, as a draconic word, a human would have a hard time pronouncing it, so it would have morphed, over time, to become the "andras" of Ancient Greek.**

 **Of course, there need to be many more complexities in draconic than in many other languages, because draconic covers many different time frames, and older languages seem to be more complicated than newer ones (as in, languages evolve to be simpler over time. Dragons, being more static, unchanging, sorts of creatures, have probably kept a huge amount of that complexity). Though this is not in evidence in the draconic words Elsa says in this chapter, dragons have a tendency to tack on extra endings to make a word mean precisely what they want it to, regardless of how complex that makes the sentence. For instance, you might get translations like "I will be being sad, because you were to have been being killed some time in the future (but before I become sad)," and this entire, convoluted sentence could (and probably would) be only two words long. Out of courtesy to Anna, Elsa will likely refrain from such complicated sentences/words when speaking in draconic around her, but not necessarily when speaking to other dragons/to herself/etc.**

 **TLDR: I'm a colossal nerd.**


	10. Chapter 10

"C'mon Elsa," Anna pleads. "It's got bacon in it. You like bacon."

Elsa shakes her head vigorously. Her silvery white hair whips the sides of her head. She frowns, and brushes it back. Anna makes a mental note to tell Elsa about the miracles of braids and hair ties.

"Why is it green?" Elsa takes a nervous step back.

"That's the broccoli," Anna says cheerfully. "It's a broccoli casserole."

"I smell cheese," Elsa takes a cautious sniff. "Definitely cheese."

"It's good," Anna insists. "Don't be a baby."

"Anna," Elsa says gingerly. "You do remember that dairy and I are bitter rivals, right?"

"Oh!" Anna exclaims. "Shit! Yeah, don't eat this. Sorry. I didn't think. I'm used to feeding people- erm… humans… You're people too- and I'm not thinking and I'm sorry."

"It's quite all right," Elsa replies. She gives a titanic yawn. There are no dark bags under her eyes, but she gives off the same sort of aura. Anna frowns in concern, but doesn't comment.

"Well," Anna shrugs apologetically, "I can make you something else."

"I'm fine," Elsa assures her.

"Ok, I guess," Anna shrugs nervously. "D&D is in a few hours; do you need help with your character?"

"No," Elsa shakes her head. "I looked through the rules the other day. It doesn't look that complicated."

"Um," Anna frowns. "Doesn't look that complicated? Really?"

"I am content with my character," Elsa says cheerfully. "She is a fighter."

"A fighter?" Anna nods encouragement. "Way to break the stereotype."

"Yes." Elsa grins. "She's a gnome. I decided to make her young too, like a hatchling. Whatever the mammal word for hatchling is. I forget. it starts with a c? Or maybe a k?"

"That's…" Anna takes a quick bite of her casserole. "An interesting design decision?"

"I get to reduce my size by one for being young," Elsa replies smugly. "And gnomes are size category small, right?"

"Yeah," Anna thinks for a moment. "I guess you'll be a pain to hit, and fighters have lots of HP anyway, but fighters need strength. You're dealing with two pretty hefty strength penalties."

"That is so," Elsa makes her clicking noise. "But I get a constitution bonus, and I took Weapon Finesse, so I can use dexterity instead, and you said we are at sixth level, so I got a plus one, keen, flaming, kukri- it already has a really big critical range, and keen improves that, right? And it's a small weapon, so I get to use dexterity, and I took expanded critical range, so I should score critical hits almost all the time, right? And I chose Power Attack, Cleave, and Greater Cleave, so every time I score a critical hit, I get another attack."

"That's," Anna frowns for a moment. "That's right I think? You don't get to cleave into the same target though. You can't just cleave through one monster over and over again."

"Right!" Elsa makes her purring noise. "But I bought a scroll that lets me summon a 'planar creature' to fight for me, so I picked a fire mephit, and I paid extra to make the spell permanent. And Fire mephits have immunity to fire, so I can't actually hurt it, so I'll just attack my mephit with every other attack. And I bought plate armor, so I'm even harder to hit!"

"Wow." Anna scratches her head. "Remind me to never show you the country's legal documents. You'd wind up empress of the world, probably."

"No," Elsa protests. "I'd wind up being the world optimizer."

"I'm just glad you didn't make Pun-pun the kobald," Anna mutters. Her dinner goes quickly, and soon, Anna and her dragon are standing outside Kristoff's home.

Kristoff opens the door. He looks worried. "Come on in," he says, with forced cheer. "Marshmallow's not joining us today. Apparently there was an emergency at the vet."

"Marshmallow plays our cleric," Anna says. Elsa nods. "He works at the vet. Guess he just likes making things better, but the army kindof burned him out? Or like being a real doctor is too stressful?"

"Vets are real doctors," Kristoff mutters. Elsa gets the sense it's something he repeats with some regularity. He's leading the two girls through his short atrium, and into the living room. There's a table in the middle, and bland carpeted floors and white plaster walls. A television and gaming console hide behind the couch, over in the corner, and medieval weaponry covers every inch of wall. Swords there- every kind of sword imaginable long swords, basket hilted broadswords, sabers, rapiers- maces and hammers there, an impressive collection of axes here. Elsa blinks, and shuffles nervously.

"Listen," Kristoff says after a moment. "Anna, be careful, ok? Hans came by earlier looking for you. You're being safe, right? Not going places alone? Getting a goddamned restraining order?"

Elsa gives a terrifying, rippling, growl. Kristoff shudders.

"I'm fine," Anna scratches the back of her head self consciously. "I'm being careful."

Kristoff turns to Elsa, stares for a moment into her slitted, blue, reptilian eyes. Elsa doesn't blink. "Park rangers and police have to work pretty closely together," he says. "If something happens, you do what you have to, to keep Anna safe, and it'll all work out." Elsa blinks slowly.

"Kristoff!" Anna swats him half-playfully. "It's hard enough to keep Elsa from taking matters into her own hands without you egging her on!"

"Sorry, sorry," Kristoff raises his hands in surrender. "I'm just worried about you. Shall we get started?"

"Sure," Anna says, grateful for the change of subject. "Where're Sven and Olaf?"

"Kitchen, of course," Kristoff says. Anna fetches the other two members of her party, and the four players introduce their characters. Anna's, a Elvish wizard- a slutty elvish wizard, Olaf helpfully supplies. Olaf's a gnome rogue (gnome buddies! Olaf cries joyfully), and Sven's a mute Druid (who apparently preferres to wildshape into a reindeer).

"You find yourselves in a tavern," Kristoff begins.

"Not another fucking tavern," Anna groans.

"A TAVERN," Kristoff continues doggedly, "in the southern town of Arrendel. It's summer, but there's melting snow and ice everywhere."

"Summer," Elsa says. "In the south. Are we below the equator?"

"No," Kristoff replies. "This world is flat. There isn't an equator. The farther south you go, the warmer it gets."

"Ok," Elsa nods. She blinks. "Is this town on a mountain? Above the tree line maybe?"

"No," Kristoff grunts. "There's a mountain nearby, but Arrendel is pretty close to sea level. It's got a small harbor. Can I finish my introduction?"

"Yes," Elsa says. "Sorry."

"The villagers seem twitchy," Kristoff says after a moment. "And they look at you with a mixture of fear and hope."

"Not fucking 'fear and hope' again," Anna thunks her head down on the table.

"It's a dragon," Olaf says cheerfully. "White dragon, I'm guessing. Those bastards love their snow, and they're all evil, so it fits."

Elsa gives a small, pained, squeak, and glances uncertainly at Anna, but doesn't say anything.

"We don't know that," Anna protests. "Just because you've not met a good white dragon doesn't mean there aren't any."

"Um, freaking monster manual?" Olaf shrugs.

"You're dragon racist," Sven says quietly, but he's got a small, almost playful, grin.

"I'm not a fucking dragon racist," Olaf protests. "It's just a fact." Elsa sinks down in her chair. Anna puts her arm around Elsa's narrow shoulders, and gives a gentle squeeze. Elsa makes her warm purring noise, and leans into the embrace.

"There is fucking fear and hope," Kristoff says. "Deal with it."

"We're in a tavern?" Olaf asks.

"Oh god," Kristoff pinches the bridge of his nose. "Yes."

"I walk up to the bar," Olaf grins. "I'm rolling move silently. I wanna roll to steal someone's pants. Like one of the patrons. Not the barkeep. That'd just be rude."

"Oh _that_ would be rude?" Anna laughs.

"There is a bar?" Elsa asks. "Like a pole? Is it for dancing?" She scratches absently at the side of her neck.

"You haven't been to a whole lot of taverns, have you?" Kristoff laughs. It takes a full fifteen minutes for the party to get back on track. Business as usual.

"I want to ask what's going on," Anna says, once Kristoff has reclaimed the conversation. It is a consistent rule of D&D that even the simplest actions take hours. The players will fall for every distraction, both in game and out, and even the most straightforward situations seem to necessitate an hour of planning and second guessing. It takes the party almost three hours to decide that yes, a dragon is living on the nearby mountain, and yes, it is terrorizing the town.

They are ambushed by a troupe of bugbears on the road up the mountain- because not even travel can be simple in D&D. Elsa cheerfully refuses to fight them, but Anna disposes of them with a few fireballs.

The dragon's cave is set high in the side of the mountain. Where a real dragon prefers neatly organized treasure rooms, and clean lines, Kristoff's imaginary cave is rough, unworked, stone, and a haphazard pile of gold.

"I want to say hi," Elsa says.

"Who dares disturb the lair of the White Death?" Kristoff asks in his best imitation of a growl. Elsa gives her odd laughing clicking sound.

"What a stupid name for a dragon," Anna laughs.

"What a stupendous name for a dragon is what I think you mean," Elsa grins. "I say, 'hi, I'm… Um… Shit. Hang on." She checks her character sheet. "I'm Barbara the gnome, and I'm here to help."

"Elsa," Anna chuckles.

"Shit," Olaf says. "What happened to being stealthy?"

Sven nods thoughtfully. "We're fucked," he decides aloud.

"And how can a mere mortal help me?" Kristoff asks quickly. "I, who am a mighty dragon?"

"Well," Elsa says, "see, the villagers are hiring adventurers, and you're what? A young adult? An adult? There are level twenty adventurers out there… I mean, um. Skilled dragon slayers? And, if we fail to kill you, they're just going to hire better adventurers, and eventually, someone's going to get you. So here's what I propose; let's work out a way for everyone to live together peacefully.'"

"I attack the dragon," Olaf announces.

"Wait," Elsa says quickly. "My dex is pretty good. Can I roll to go first?"

"Sure," Kristoff allows.

"Twenty!" Elsa cries. "I want to stab Olaf's character."

"Sure," Kristoff laughs. "Roll it."

"But… Gnome buddies," Olaf says as Elsa starts to roll.

"A hundred and ninety three," Elsa says cheerfully. "Damage that is. Your AC is only eighteen, right?"

"Oh god!" Olaf exclaims. "How?"

"I got a lot of criticals," Elsa replies. There's something competitive and predatory in her eyes.

"But… I've been playing that character for three years," Olaf protests.

"Neat," Elsa grins viciously. "So, anyway, I…"

"I attack Elsa's character," Sven says.

"Excellent!" Elsa turns her terrifying reptile eyes on Sven. "I get two attacks of opportunity."

"Two?" Kristoff frowns. "How?"

"Combat reflexes gives me a number of attacks of opportunity equal to my dex bonus," Elsa is already rolling. "And I took a mutation that gives me reach, so I get one attack at ten feet, and another at five."

"Jesus fuck," Kristoff gasps. And you get extra attacks for this too?"

"Yes." Elsa trails the end of the word like a hiss. "I have to attack my mephit every other attack, but my mephit isn't hurt by it. Only seventy five damage," Elsa pouts.

"Well you only killed me twice over," Sven grins. "Impressive."

"Anna?" Elsa purrs, and holds up the dice.

"Nope," Anna shakes her head vigorously. "I'm with you darling."

"Ok," Elsa shrugs. "So anyway, I think we should work on a plan to make cohabitation with the villagers a possibility. Why were you eating them?"

"God!" Kristoff shudders. "Remind me never to fuck with you. I guess the dragon says something like 'oh, I was hungry and they're just mortals. Who cares?'"

"You will," Elsa says. "Care, that is. Once they hire a more competent adventuring party. Or if I decide to kill you. I'm fairly certain that I could. Can we agree that death isn't in your best interests?"

"Um?" Kristoff frowns. "Yes?"

"Then we are also agreed that you should not be eating humans?" Elsa tilts her head and continues. "Now how shall we go about feeding you? Ah! You get cleric spells."

"I do?" Kristoff asks. "Really?"

"Yes. All dragons do," Elsa shrugs. "It seems a bit arbitrary, but it's in the rules. And clerics can summon potatoes as low level spells. Depending on your int bonus, you can probably summon ten sacks of potatoes a day, at least. Now, obviously you're a carnivore, but I suspect that the humans in the town will be willing to trade you meat for potatoes. You'll have to use your human form, but that should be entirely doable for you. Yes, the exchange rate between potatoes and meat might not be in your favor, but everyone knows that large reptiles prefer to eat large meals all at once, sleep for a month, and not eat in between. See anacondas. Your stomach, based on your body mass, is probably not larger than, say, a deer. I'm sure three hundred sacks of potatoes is enough to purchase one deer?"

"That's…" Kristoff thinks for a moment. "That's actually a good point Elsa. I guess the dragon agrees?"

* * *

Anna slips her hand into Elsa's as they walk home half an hour later. Elsa flinches, but doesn't pull away. She looks at Anna for a moment, then stops walking. Anna is jerked to a stop by their linked hands. Elsa tilts her head slowly, silvery hair making a shimmery sort of curtain. Anna imagines that her hair is made of moonlight for a moment, but then Elsa is speaking. "I'm sorry," she says in her distinctive raspy voice. She scratches her neck with her free hand and drops something on the dark asphalt behind her. A shimmering white-blue scale. Anna pretends not to notice. "I ruined your game. I didn't intend to, but I went overboard. Dragons are proud creatures, and I felt- wrongly- that my pride was being challenged. I felt that there was only one action that Kristoff wanted me to do, and that offended me. And we're predators; it's not easy for me to stop myself from harming your people, and I got too immersed in the game. But all I'm doing is offering excuses, and that is not what an apology is. I'm sorry. You love this D&D, and I feel as though I have ruined it."

"No!" Anna says. "Not at all. We only ever kick down the door, kill all the monsters, and loot the room. This was a good change. Wait… You have to keep yourself from hurting me? Like eating me?"

"Yes," Elsa looks away. "I apologize for that as well, I suppose."

"Nah," Anna shrugs, and give her pale hand a squeeze. "I feel safe around you."

"Then you are a very foolish monkey," Elsa says, but she's grinning slightly. Anna stares into Elsa's face until she looks back. They stand like that for a moment, staring into each other's eyes, then Anna blinks slowly and deliberately, and is rewarded by a happy purr from her pale companion. Anna grins; those animal training books weren't wrong about the eye contact, at least. Anna steps forward, and Elsa blinks in confusion.

"Promise me you won't eat me for what I'm about to do?" Anna asks.

"That depends entirely on what you are planning to do," Elsa frowns.

Anna swallows nervously. Then again. Then leans in, and plants a tentative kiss on Elsa's cool lips. The dragon lets out a startled yip. "Guess it's my turn to apologize," Anna giggles. "Sorry. You make cute noises. Sorry."

Elsa jolts forward, and nips Anna's nose lightly. Anna rubs at her nose, and frowns at her dragon. "What'd you do that for?" She asks indignantly.

Elsa clicks- a sound that seems disconcertingly like a snicker in this context. "What'd you kiss me for?" She asks.

"'Cuz I like you," Anna rubs her nose again.

"Huh," Elsa says. "I guess I was right then. It's getting late, and I hear that it's not safe for humans to be out at night."

"Ok I guess," Anna frowns, and walks with Elsa. She takes Elsa's hand again. "Wait, does this mean you like me?" She asks.

"Hmm." Elsa says. "That's an interesting question. Let me know when you've got an answer."

* * *

 **AN: I think in D &D 3.5, the mephit's fire immunity only actually stops the fire damage… I think the actual magical kukri attack would still hurt it, but this is a work of fiction, so whatever. There are a few other rules errors in there, that I left because this is a story, and it's more thematic this way. **

**I intended to follow the "twice a week" update pattern, but life is busy, and I should really try to life more often… I think once a week will be a more sustainable update pattern, so Ima tentatively pledge to do that instead? I would rather give you all a better story a little late than a worse story on time... Don't go all angry mob if I miss an update plz?**

 ***braces for rotten tomatoes***

 **As always, many thanks for all the favorites/follows/reviews. This story only exists because of you all.**

 **Edit: 50 followers! wheeee! also, there are horizontal lines in this program? how i not know dis?**


	11. Chapter 11

"He's fairly attractive," Elsa says. She is curled in on herself in front of Anna's couch, watching The Desolation of Smaug with her human.

"Who? Thorin? Yeah, I guess, if you're into that sort of rough look." Anna pouts. She shifts unnecessarily on the couch.

"No," Elsa huffs,"Smaug. His hoard is enormous."

"I need a hoard," Anna grumbles, and slithers lazily off the couch and onto Elsa. Elsa squeaks, and shifts awkwardly.

"Not the wing please," she hisses. "Off my wing."

"Sorry," Anna lifts herself, and slips under Elsa's wing. The dragon flinches, and growls softly when Anna leans against the curve of her neck, but doesn't make a move to dislodge the girl. "Elsa?" Anna asks a few moments later.

"Hmm?" Elsa hums. There's an avaricious gleam in her eyes as she watches the bright screen.

"Are you ok?" Anna rubs her freckled hands down Elsa's neck, and frowns at the patchy unevenness she feels.

"I've been abusing my species' sleep schedule," Elsa gives an odd, full body shrug. "We're built to eat larger meals than what I have been, and more rarely. And we're built to sleep longer than humans do."

"Goddamnit Elsa," Anna groans. "What have I told you about fucking up your health just because you think I'll be happier if you do?"

Elsa tilts her head and blinks. "Not to get caught doing it," she says.

"Yes," Anna replies. "Except the exact words I used were 'don't do it.' Anyway, I've only known you for what? A week and a half? Aren't dragons supposed to be tough?"

"I was bred for intelligence," Elsa grumbles. "They sacrificed a great deal in the name of intellect. I have always been sickly- for a dragon, that is. You needn't worry. This will not kill me."

"Elsa," Anna sighs, and goes to deliver a massive hug, but thinks better of it. Instead, she stares into Elsa's great sapphire eye, and blinks slowly. "Elsa," she sighs again, "I'm an idiot, but at least I'm not a selfish idiot. You have to take care of yourself. I like you, and that probably means that something's wrong with me, but it also means I want you to be well. So look. You need to eat good. Like for a dragon good. And you need to sleep right. Or else I'll eat like three packs of bacon in front of you, and I won't give you any. You won't enjoy it, I won't enjoy it, so let's just not mess with it, huh?"

"If you insist," Elsa grumbles. "Does this mean I don't have to go to work at your shop anymore?"

"Yes," Anna laughs. "I think we both know I don't care about making you replace that backpack."

* * *

Anna is bored. Work without Elsa is… well, it's work. She knows that the day is exactly as long as it was with the excitement that Elsa provides, but she can't seem to reclaim the working daze she lived in before Elsa swooped into her life. Olaf's jokes don't pass the time like they used to because they aren't Elsa's odd reptilian mannerisms. Customers don't interest her anymore because they don't close their eyes and sway to the music. The day passes slowly for Anna, but it's easier for her to be away from her dragon, when she tells herself that Elsa needs the rest. And that is exactly what Elsa is doing until the doorbell wakes her up.

Elsa starts, and blinks groggily. There is a loud pounding, so she scrapes together her human shape, checks it in the mirror, makes a few alterations, walks slowly to the door. There are several more thuds, and the door shakes. Elsa rubs her eyes tiredly, and wraps herself in protective magic. She opens the door. Red hair and freckles- Anna? No, Anna is smaller, and smells different. This one smells familiar though. Elsa blinks a few times. Ah yes- the icecream shop. This is the Hans person. He's holding a baseball bat.

"You I did not expect to visit here," Elsa yawns. "I had thought the threat of Kristoff and his friends would keep you away. Ah. Shows me not to overestimate human intelligence."

"Where's Anna?" Hans demands. He holds up the bat menacingly.

Elsa blinks a few times, and yawns again. "Oh, if you insist," she says. "Anna will be displeased with me, but, well, she'll forgive me. You better come in." She stands to the side, and motions invitingly.

"Huh," Hans says. "Good on you." He steps through the open door. Elsa shuts it behind him. "I'm sure you know this," Hans continues. "But, I think you deserve to be told anyway, just in case. Anna cheated on me."

"I do not care what happened between you and she," Elsa says, maneuvering him into the kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

"Mm," Hans says. "What do you have?"wordlessly, Elsa produces a mug of hot chocolate and slides it across the table to him.

"Did you tell anyone you were coming here?" Elsa moves restlessly around the kitchen.

"Nah," Hans sips from the mug. "Looked her up in the phone book. This is pretty good."

"Thank you," Elsa says.

"Ok, look," Hans says, "you seem like a nice girl, and I don't want you getting hurt. Anna has this habit of rapid-fire rebound dating. She'll date you for a few weeks, make you feel like the most loved person on the planet, then boom, she leaves you for someone else."

"Boom," Elsa says.

"I just don't want you to get hurt," Hans says.

"I am not an idiot," Elsa snarls. She shakes her head vigorously, and rubs at her eyes. "I told you, I do not care about anything you have to say about my Anna."

"Your Anna?" He laughs. "Oh she isn't anyone's Anna. She's going to chew you up and spit you out like so much rotten meat."

"Rotten meat," Elsa says. "I see. Would you like more hot chocolate?" Her teeth are noticeably longer, and pointed, like a mouth full of needles.

"No," Hans taps his finger on the smooth surface of the table. "I'm full. Thanks. I think I'm done for now."

"Full?" Elsa growls. "Done? No, you aren't done. I've seen the scars. Were you done after the first one? No. Were you done when she asked you to leave her alone? Oh no, you're not done."

Hans stands abruptly, and reaches for his bat, but Elsa waves one scaled hand, and a cascade of molten chocolate falls from the empty air, and coats him from head to toe. Now she's her full twelve feet of thrashing tail, and shining scales- a gradual sort of slipping. If she notices, she gives no indication.

"Oh god!" Hans yells.

"No," Elsa hisses. Her voice is low and smooth. Like the skin of a snake, made into language. "Your god isn't here right now, but I am, and I'm not pleased."

"What are you?" Hans stumbles back.

"I'm a dragon," Elsa says. He makes a break for the door, and she lashes out with the blunt edge of her wing, clips him across the throat, and he drops to the floor coughing. "I'm a dragon," she says again, unnecessarily, "and we dragons place more importance on oaths than I think you can comprehend. Now I, a dragon, have vowed that if you ever look to be a problem, I shall cover you in chocolate, remove your spine, and eat you. You are covered in chocolate, so can you tell me what is going to happen next?"

"Oh god!" Hans says again, and tries to stand.

"Hmm," Elsa hums, and stretches her head forward. "No, but good guess."

* * *

"Elsa?" Anna calls. The door slams. "Elsa, are you alright?"

"Mpfh," Elsa says unintelligibly. She's curled up in front of the couch. "M'fine." She doesn't open her eyes.

"I got a call at work," Anna rushes over to Elsa and crouches down next to her. "From Kristoff. He said… Are you sure you're ok?"

"Would be more ok if people stopped waking me up," Elsa grumbles.

"Sorry," Anna mumbles. "It's just, Kristoff said Hans came by the police station again, and the new guy looked up my address, and I was worried Hans might have come by here?"

"No," Elsa shifts onto her side and engulfs Anna in her warm wings.

"I just," Anna frowns, and snuggles back into the hollow beneath one great, tent-like wing. "I came home as soon as I heard, and I saw the door, and I was worried, and… What _did_ happen to the door?"

"No idea," Elsa hums.

"Elsa, it's a common thing in my culture that relationships are built on trust," Anna sighs. "Is it the same in yours?"

"Yes," Elsa says, and opens one azure eye.

"So, then." Anna looks as stern as she can, horizontal, and wrapped in the dragon's wings. "Why is my door all banged up?"

"Because I ate Hans," Elsa says it casually, as if remarking on a late train. "He hit your door I think."

"You… Ate him?" Anna gives a confused frown.

"Yes." Elsa doesn't sound proud, she sounds… defensive, almost. "I warned you, when, against my better judgement, I let him live. I said, if he ever hurts you again- or even just if he looks like he's going to try to hurt you. I said I would pull out his spine, cover him in chocolate, and eat him. That is what I said. He came here with a bat. That's like a club thing, you know. He wanted to know where you were. He was holding his bat like a threat. He was going to hurt you, Anna. That is what I said. If he is going to hurt you, he is going to die. Did you think I was joking?"

"No," Anna says. She isn't as angry as she thinks she should be. "I didn't think that. Do you feel bad about it?"

"Feel bad?" Elsa cocks her head. "Should I?"

"He was alive, and now he's not." It's starting to sink in now. Elsa killed someone. She always says she's dangerous, but she hasn't actually seemed dangerous until now. "He was a real person. He had a family. How do you think they feel?"

"He was going to hurt you," Elsa protests. "I don't understand. He was going to hurt you, and now he's not. Isn't that a good thing? And if he was going to hurt you, isn't it likely that he was going to hurt other people? He hit me- he didn't know it wouldn't hurt me- he hit me at the ice cream shop. What if you had been with another human? He would have hit them. Hans was a hitter person. Isn't it good that he isn't hitting you?"

"Yeah, I guess." Anna squirms. "But you didn't have to eat him. You could have… I don't know… What about his family?"

"Which family?" Elsa blinks.

"His mother, and father?" Anna sniffs tearfully. "His brothers?"

"Hans should have thought about them before becoming a hitter person," Elsa decides after a moment.

"So you don't feel bad about it? At all?" Anna asks. Her eyes are wet, but she's stopped sniffling. Elsa wonders if she's allergic to something.

"I do not regret protecting you, no." Replies Elsa.

"Fine," Anna says. her breathing quickens. Hans was going to hurt her again. He came to her house with a bat. "But, like, morally? It doesn't bother you that you just killed someone?" It doesn't bother her as much as she thinks it should. It... he came to her house with a bat! Elsa was there! What if he had hurt her? What if he had brought a gun? Elsa was tired, she admitted it herself. What if she had forgotten one of her protections? What if Hans had hurt Elsa? What if Hans had hurt Kristoff, when he was denied her location? What if he had hurt gentle Marshmallow? Or Goofy little Olaf? Or what if Elsa hadn't been ready and he hurt her? What if he had gone to that stupid Society for the Protection of Human Rights, or whatever it was that they called themselves? What if they killed Elsa like they killed her mother? Or, almost worse, what if they gave her the same horrible scars Anna has? What if...

But what about Hans' family? They'll be confused, and sad, and sad, and sad, and what if Elsa got hurt?

"I do not prefer harming humans over not harming humans, given the choice," Elsa says, heading off the mental gymnastics. "I do not feel that there was a choice here, and lamenting the situation, when there is no real alternative helps no one."

"Yeah," Anna is starting to calm down now, in spite of herself. It's good that Hans won't hurt her Elsa. "Chocolate though?"

"He tastes good with chocolate." Elsa's long, forked, tongue flicks out. "Chocolate is a food that goes well with salty things. Humans are salty."

"Would I taste salty?" Anna wags her eyebrows halfheartedly. Elsa doesn't reply, so Anna plays her hands over Elsa's horns. "If I were to ride you again, could I use your horns to steer?" She asks.

"Please no," Elsa mutters. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

"I guess," Anna shrugs uncomfortably, and sits up. Elsa hisses, so Anna scoots off her wing. "Sorry. Didn't mean to hurt you. No more eating people, ok?"

"Ok," Elsa says.

"Ok as in you're going to do it when I'm not looking, or ok like ok?" Anna asks.

"Ok like ok," Elsa replies.

"Am I going to find a huge Hans mess in one of the rooms I've not been in yet?" Anna asks with a small, watery, smile. She would never admit it, but it's a great relief to finally be rid of Hans. She wouldn't do it herself, wouldn't even consider it, really. Hell, she wouldn't even file that damn restraining order, but Elsa is right. Hans was a problem. Now he's not. Elsa shakes her great, horned head.

"No Hans mess," Elsa says. "I was going to keep some for you, but then I remembered that you are human too, and I don't think humans are cannibals right now so I didn't think you wanted any?"

"You're a very silly lizard," Anna says, leans forward, opens her mouth, and tries her hardest to nip Elsa's snout, but her mouth only opens so far. Elsa jerks back, and blinks a few times.

"I don't think human mouths are very good," she decides, and playfully nips Anna's nose.

"No fair," Anna grumbles, and rubs her face. After a few moments, Elsa's big blue eyes close again. Anna lies with the dragon for a few hours before her stomach reminds her that time exists. She stands, stretches, and heads into the kitchen to cook dinner for herself.

Her phone rings. She answers numbly- Hans is gone. She wants to feel sad about it, or happy, or anything, really, but instead she just feels numb, now that the shock and relief has worn off. Whatever she felt before is gone now. "Hey," she says. "This is Anna."

"Anna!" It's Kristoff's voice. He sounds panicked. "Anna? Are you alright? Is Elsa alright?"

"We're fine," she replies.

"Did Hans come by?" There is a rushing sound in the background. Anna wonders if Kristoff is outside. "Is he there now?"

"No," Anna says. She rubs her eyes. "No, he's gone. I… I don't think he's going to be a problem anymore."

"What happened? Anna, you've got to talk to me." Kristoff's voice is loud, but not angry.

"No," Anna replies. "Nothing happened. Don't worry about it."

Kristoff doesn't believe her, but he doesn't press the point. "Sure," he says. "Fine. Is Elsa coming to the halloween party?"

"Don't know," Anna says. She shrugs, even though Kristoff can't see her. "I haven't asked her yet. Probably she will though. I have to go. I'll talk to you later."

"Alright," Kristoff says hesitantly. "Stay safe."

Anna hangs up, and sits listlessly for a while- she doesn't know how long.

* * *

"Sir," the man says. He's on the phone- a sleek, black, cellphone.

"Report?" The voice in the phone demands. "Did you find it?"

"No, sir," the man says. "There is magic everywhere in this town, sir. It's playing hell with our machines."

"Damn it man," the voice in the phone says. "Find a solution."

"We're working on it, sir," the man says. "There are only a few newcomers in town. It has to be one of them. We'll find it sir."

* * *

 **AN: well, sorry this chapter is so short. I know I promised longer chapters a while back, but this chapter felt like it really needed to end there.**

 **Also, lots of thanks for all the followers/favoriters/reviewers. At this rate, we might even get onto the fifth page when sorting fanfics by followers! That would be so amazing! (I have decided arbitrarily that this would mean that I'm famous and therefore probably never have to work again. Not sure why I have decided this, but it's probably true.) Let's do this! Yosh!**

 **Edit: the discussion after Elsa ate Hans is now like %40 better. Many thanks to Salnar for excellent criticism.**


	12. Chapter 12

"A missing person case?" Kristoff frowns. "In Jotunheimen?"

"Apparently," the police chief shrugs. She's new. A transfer from a few cities over. "This guy named Hans. Apparently he's some kind of local bully. There've been a few complaints. You heard anything about him?"

"He… abused… a friend of mine," Kristoff says after a moment. "I'll. I'm. Um. Hang on." He steps outside- the ranger's station is not a big building. A reception desk- usually abandoned- a cramped, unisex bathroom, and a back office. So he steps outside, and fishes his phone from his pocket.

"Anna?" He asks quietly.

"Speaking," the sunny voice comes from the speaker like a bludgeon.

"Anna, what happened to Hans?" Kristoff keeps his voice down, so his emotions don't leak through, but Anna can guess at a few.

"Ah," Anna hums. "Yeah. That. Um. He won't be a problem anymore."

"I kindof gathered that," Kristoff hisses. "I've got the police chief crawling up my ass with a missing person case. Anna, Hans is that missing person!"

"Oh." Kristoff can almost hear Anna frown. "That's bad, right?"

"Maybe," Kristoff says. "She's a transfer from another town- the police chief, that is. I don't know her all that well. She might just drop it if I ask, or well. She might not. Just what _did_ happen?"

"He came to my house," Anna replies. She's speaking quickly- almost too quickly to understand, but Kristoff is used to his friend's mannerisms. "He had a bat, banged up my door, Elsa was there alone, he threatened her, attacked her I think, Elsa won't talk about it, and she killed him, and he's dead, and oh my god I don't know what to do?"

"Ok," Kristoff says. He's surprisingly calm. "Is Elsa there? Can she hear you? Just yes or no is fine."

"She's here," Anna answers. "But she's asleep in another room. Why?"

"Alright." Kristoff nods. "Do you feel safe with her?"

"Of course," Anna snaps. "I meant I don't know what to do about Hans! Am I going to go to jail? Is Elsa going to jail?"

"No," Kristoff sighs in relief. "No, you said he came to your house with a bat? We can probably spin that as self defense. Hell, it probably was, actually. I think Marshmallow knows a lawyer. I'll get him to call. Don't answer any…"

"No!" Anna cuts him off. "What about Elsa?"

"Self defense," Kristoff is calm and patient. "I said already. She'll be fine."

"No," Anna snaps. "She won't! She doesn't have any papers, no birth certificate, no passport, no nothing. She won't be fine!"

"Ok," Kristoff says soothingly. "We'll work something out. She might get deported to… wherever the hell she came from, probably fined or something, but it'll be fine. You didn't try to hide the body, did you? Does she have any history with the law?"

"I don't think so?" Anna's breath comes in rapid little gulps. "And the body… Um. It won't be found."

"Won't be found?" Kristoff takes a deep breath to keep calm. "Jesus Anna, what did you do?"

"Elsa… disposed of it," Kristoff isn't an idiot; he can tell that he isn't getting the whole truth- who couldn't? But, at the same time…

"Never mind," he sighs. "It's probably better that I don't know. I guess… damn. I'll see if I can get the police chief to… I'll tell her Hans was probably hiking. I'll need to talk to Elsa later, to work out a story. Have her call me as soon as she gets up. If anyone gets there first… I guess tell her not to talk to them until she hears from me."

"Oh my god thank you Kristoff," Anna sounds grateful, but her thanks lacks its usual energy.

"Yeah," Kristoff says. "You're paying for like, my next dozen date nights. I've got to go. I'll be by later." He stands there for a few minutes after he hangs up, then sighs, and trudges back into the rangers station.

"Any news?" The police chief asks.

"Uh," Kristoff looks like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car, though he must have known it was coming. "Yeah, I think he got lost hiking. Happens more than you'd think."

"Uh-huh," the police chief nods skeptically. Her brass nameplate glitters in the bright, electric light, Chief Oswald. He heard that her first name is Alex, from one of the officers that knew her before she transferred. "So, you want me to believe that, the day he disappeared, this Hans fellow visited your friend- without incident, even though he has a long history of abuse, towards this girl in particular- then he just… left?"

"Um, yeah?" Kristoff groans internally. This will never work.

"Then he decided to go for a hike, without any preparation, without telling anyone, and without any sort of history of hiking?" Chief Oswald crosses her arms under her generous bust, and glares at him.

"Yes?" Kristoff shifts from one foot to another.

"And you couldn't tell me any of this until you called this friend of yours?" She takes two long strides forward, and jabs him in the chest. "Isn't that awfully convenient?"

"I, uh," Kristoff swallows convulsively. "I guess so?"

"No," Chief Oswald says. "That is not what happened."

"It's not?" Kristoff wonders why he ever thought this would work.

"No." She nods firmly. "This Hans fucker never visited your friend's house. He filed his itinerary with you- we'll have to 'find' that paperwork later- you warned him that there had been bear sightings. A particularly aggressive bear. He ignored you, and everything that happened next was perfectly predictable. Understand?"

"Um. Yes?" Kristoff scowls. "Why though?"

"I represent someone," Chief Oswald says. "A very powerful, very old, man. Lord Alan Wesselton. He is… interested in the… events… surrounding this town."

"Ah," Kristoff says. "I think I understand." He knows he doesn't.

"So I would like to meet Elsa," the police chief says.

"I… Don't think I mentioned that name," Kristoff frowns.

"Please," Chief Oswald rolls her eyes. "If I'm going to help you cover this up, the least you can do is let me meet the girl responsible. But first, I'm going to show you a few pictures." She produces a worn manila envelope, and slides an old, grainy, black and white photo across the table. The wall of a sprawling, victorian, manor is just visible in the corner, and in the air, a blurry smudge. A long, slender, sort of smudge, with wings. "Have you ever seen a creature like this?" She asks.

* * *

"Th," Anna says, with a frown of deep concentration. "Sa, ss, so, se, oh, ah, rrr, pfh…"

"Ph," Elsa corrects. She's purring quietly.

"Right," Anna scowls. "Phhuh."

"Ph," Elsa says again.

"Ok, fuckit," Anna wads up her cheatsheet, and lobs it at Elsa. It bounces harmlessly off Elsa's armored snout. Elsa's tongue flicks out briefly. "I'm skipping that one. Ok, eeee…"

"Ee," Elsa says. It sounds almost like a cough, at first.

"Ee," Anna corrects herself. "An, in, v, dr, ad, ga, go, goh, ge, ng, ooh, uh, la." She grins triumphantly.

"You are improving," Elsa says. Her throat barely moves as she talks, and Anna wonders if that has anything to do with the odd sounds of the draconic language. "You should try again," Elsa nods after a moment. "Practice is the best way of learning a new language."

"Ugh," Anna drops her head to the table with a loud thud. Elsa worries that her fragile human has injured herself, but then Anna is upright and speaking animatedly, again. "This is hard," Anna groans. "I didn't think this would be so hard."

"The magnitude of a gesture of affection corresponds directly to the magnitude of appreciation it earns," Elsa says with her now familiar, clicking laugh. "Learning my language is a very great task."

Anna thinks for a moment, then squeals, and wraps her slender arms around Elsa's muscular neck. Elsa gives an annoyed grunt. Anna feels the powerful sinews shifting with Elsa's movements, finds the feeling surprisingly erotic, but she lets go anyway.

She frowns, and starts again. "Th, sa, ss, so, se…"

* * *

"Elsa?" Anna is perched in her favorite spot, in the hollow between Elsa's neck, and shoulder.

"Mmm?" The dragon doesn't glance away from the screen.

"Whatcha thinking?" Anna worries her lip. Smaug died onscreen earlier in the movie, and Elsa hasn't spoken since. Hell, she's barely even moved- not even her odd blinking, or her squeaks of surprise.

Elsa's head cranes around, one sapphire eye peers into both of Anna's. The redhead holds her breath. "I am disliking this movie," Elsa says. "It seems like a poorly written bedtime story. Each of the dwarves is identical, Smaug was a fool, Bilbo is useless, Thorin ought to be eaten for his treatment of his friends, each of the races is wholly irrational, and far too quick to war."

"That's all in the book though, and the book is a classic!" Anna protests.

"If these faults are in the book, then I refuse to let it stand beside my beloved Beowulf," Elsa snorts. "Or the Odyssey, or the Iliad."

"What about what's her face?" Anna asks. "The elf and the dwarf? Everyone hates that. What'd you think of that?"

"That I enjoy," Elsa nods firmly. Anna gets distracted by the way the light refracts off Elsa's eye. "This Hobbit story was in desperate need of a female, and the idea of a relationship forbidden by both their races is intriguing. The whole story should have focused on them."

"Oh," Anna crosses her arms, and nuzzles sullenly into Elsa. "Is that why you're in a relationship with me?"

Elsa thinks for a moment. She blinks, tilts her head, and carefully rubs against Anna- carefully, for fear of damaging the small mammal, not from uncertainty of Anna's reaction. "No," Elsa says. "My kind would not care one way or the other about my choice of partner, and I don't care what your kind thinks. No. I appreciate you for your total lack of expectations, and for your happy, innocent, candor, and for your excitement in sharing your world with me, and for your stubbornness, and because you are silly, and that amuses me."

"Not because I'm pretty?" Anna pouts.

"Anna," Elsa huffs, and starts again. "My race reproduces via external fertilization. Evolutionarily, there is absolutely no benefit to any sort of lust, or allure, or sexual appetite. I am biologically incapable of being attracted to, even another dragon's physique. Why would I be any more able to feel sexual attraction to a member of a different species?" Elsa tries to hide her annoyance. If Anna were a dragon, she would notice, but the human is too wrapped up in her own emotions to notice Elsa's.

"You don't think I'm pretty," Anna scowls.

"I find your freckles more aesthetically pleasing than the absence of freckles," Elsa blinks, confused.

Suddenly, Anna stretches out- almost as far as she can, without standing- and thwacks Elsa's head. Elsa lets out an involuntary "meep!" as she jerks back, and glowers down at Anna. She blinks. Anna sticks out her tongue petulantly, and leans into the glittering white cliff of Elsa's side- Elsa watches her the whole time. Without breaking eye contact, Anna delivers a long, sloppy, lick.

"You licked me," Elsa says quietly.

"Ung, sorry," Anna laughs. "Yeah, you don't taste as good as I thought you would."

Elsa stands, and unceremoniously dumps Anna to the ground.

"Ow!" Anna protests. "Hey! What was that for?"

"You licked me," Elsa says calmly. "I shall be in my room. Please do not disturb me."

"Sorry!" Anna follows after. "I'm sorry! I don't know what it means in your culture, but it was an accident. I didn't mean it!" She realizes very quickly that she has committed some sort of grave faux pas.

"I am aware," Elsa says. "I apologize. A lack of communication is the cause of so many problems, it's just, the last person that did that was my mother, the night that she was murdered."

"Oh my god Elsa, I'm so sorry," Anna gasps. "I didn't mean… I'm sorry."

"It was an accident, and you are sorry," Elsa nods. "I shall not hold it against you. I am not angry, but I _would_ prefer to be alone. I know it is irrational, but I find myself affected more than I would expect, and I would prefer to be alone..."

"Elsa," Anna sighs. "I'm sorry. I'll see you later I guess?"

"Yes," Elsa bobs her great, horned, head. She slithers back to her room, and shuts her door with a flick of her tail.

* * *

Elsa is not awake when Anna leaves for work the next day, or else, she is, and she just chooses not to make herself known. The day feels impossibly long to Anna, and she hardly gets any work done. Throughout the whole day, she worries that Elsa won't be there when she gets home. That she has finally annoyed Elsa enough to make the odd white dragon leave, or else, that what she did was so grave of an insult, that Elsa could never forgive her, or that…

She leaves early that day, trusting her shop to Olaf's care, and fully braced to come back to an empty home, but there Elsa is, curled up in front of the couch-in her human form, of all things, a controller clutched in her pale hands, and a frown scrawled across her fair brow.

"Hi, Anna," Elsa says brightly, and all of Anna's worry disappears like a fog in the bright sun. "How was your day?"

"Good enough," Anna replies. "I was worried I made you leave or something?"

"Of course not," Elsa says cheerily. "It was irrational of me to be upset, and I forgave you instantly. I'm sorry to have worried you."

"Don't worry about it," Anna gives a relieved grin. "I'm the one that should be sorry. What're you playing?"

"I am playing your Legend of Zelda who is the Twilight Princess," Elsa replies. "I expected to play as this Zelda person, but I think this green human is called 'Link?'"

"Yeah," Anna laughs, and takes a seat on the couch. "How far in are you? Holy shit! You're on the icy mountain mansion level? When did you start?"

"This morning," Elsa growls. "I am doing poorly. Sorry. I have died many times."

"No!" Anna says, "that's fucking amazing! How? How many times is 'many?'"

"Six," Elsa replies glumly. "Mostly to the lava in that stupid volcano place with the stupid rock people."

"You've only died six times?" Anna gasps. "Jesus. Ima have to introduce you to online gaming. Maybe you'll improve my score…" and just like that, all hints of conflict are resolved. Anna is perfectly content to watch Elsa play- she loves Elsa's little frowns of concentration, and the way she blinks thoughtfully when one of the characters gives her more information, and the terrifying growls she lets out in combat, and the pained hisses, when her avatar takes damage. It does not take Elsa much longer to beat the game.

* * *

"Ok," Anna says, rolling up her sleeves. "You take this cauldron thing, put it over there, and fill it with chocolate, using your awesome chocolaty magic. I guess figure out a way to make it hot without damaging my table? I'll cook the bacon over here on the stove, and you'll handle the whole dipping business."

"Right," Elsa nods solemnly, and takes the cauldron. From the way Anna groaned, and struggled picking it up, Elsa fully expected it to be heavy, but the weight of the cast iron barely affects the dragon.

"So, this is going to be amazing," Anna grins. "Chocolate and bacon. Best food ever!"

"Yes," Elsa grins happily. She waves her hand theatrically, and the cauldron fills. "Hans didn't taste all that different from pig, and he was excellent with chocolate."

"Um, Riiiight," Anna gives a slight smile, in spite of herself. She sets the first pan cooking, and walks over to Elsa's cauldron. "Looking good," she says, and dips a finger in. "Ow!" Anna yells. "Ow ow ow! Hot!"

"What did you expect?" Elsa demands. "You told me to heat it?"

"Yeah," Anna nods, and hops a lap around the kitchen. "Ow! Yeah, I did. Stupid stupid Anna! Can you kiss it better?"

"Excuse me?" Elsa blinks. "Can I what?"

"Kiss it better," Anna holds out her Chocolate-covered finger.

"That is a very odd superstition," Elsa tilts her head. "It also seems unlikely to work. Here." She waves her hand again, and Anna feels a sort of impossible warm chill start at the crown of her head, and travel down her spine and through her limbs. When it is gone, so is the pain.

"Wait," Anna frowns. "Did you just heal me? Was that healing magic? Was that like 'cure minor wounds,' or like 'lay on hands?' Or did you waste a high tier spell on me?"

"Anna," Elsa sighs, and gives her cauldron a few vigorous stirs. "Life is not like Dungeons and Dragons. I healed you, but the mechanics of magic are much different from Dungeons and Dragons. Much more logical and consistent, as well."

"Oh," Anna pouts. "Does this mean you aren't going to kiss it better?"

Elsa rolls her eyes. "Come here," she says, and Anna does. Elsa stares at her for a moment, reaches down, and grabs Anna by the wrist. The human doesn't flinch as Elsa brings her hand up, and gingerly sticks the offending finger in her mouth.

Elsa's mouth is warm, and soft, her tongue gentle, but efficient. Anna shivers. suddenly, there is a hint of sharpness; Elsa's teeth clamped gently around her finger. Anna gives an experimental tug, but the dragon holds firm. Elsa's eyes- ice, from the heart of a glacier- sparkle with unspoken laughter. Anna gives another tug, but Elsa still doesn't let go, and the human feels a flash of warmth in a few entirely unrelated regions, and then her finger is free, and Elsa is stirring her cauldron again.

"It is unwise to allow anything to enter a dragon's mouth, if you plan on getting it back," Elsa remarks casually, as if asking what's for dinner. Anna shudders again. She's blushing furiously.

"Elsa," she says. "I think I love you."

"You've known me for two weeks." Elsa doesn't turn.

"Mmm," Anna sits. "Still though." She sits happily, smiling and staring. Something seems off about Elsa, she realizes. Something about her clothing. The way it hangs, maybe, or the way it bends as Elsa moves. It seems too flat. Like low budget CGI. Elsa's clothes aren't real, Anna remembers- just an illusion- but they've always looked real before. Elsa notices her staring, gives a happy smile, and walks over to check on the bacon. She stirs it quickly, and goes back to her cauldron of chocolate. Stirs the bacon that Anna was supposed to be cooking, Anna realizes with no small amount of chagrin. Anna swallows convulsively, and stirs the bacon unnecessarily.

"Can I ride you again some time?" Anna asks abruptly. She watches out of the corner of her eye as Elsa blinks, and stops stirring for a moment.

"Last time you messed up my scales, and I messed up your legs." Elsa speaks calmly, casually, but she's blushing lightly.

"That's not a no," Anna says.

"It's not a yes either," Elsa points out.

"What if we use a saddle?" Anna brings the first plate of bacon over, and pointedly ignores the slices that Elsa liberates.

"You are not saddling me like some beast of burden," Elsa mutters around a full mouth.

* * *

Almost an hour after Anna's lunch break, twelve men appear in front of her shop. Men and women maybe. It's hard to tell; they all look the same under their white porcelain masks. And dark, silvery mesh-like body armor. And combat webbing. And odd gold-and-glass rods that they hold like guns. They appear literally out of thin air- magic, Anna realizes- and enter quickly, like the videos Anna has seen of police breaking down a door, but with less property damage. The tubes- guns? magical guns? maguns? Anna likes that last one- the maguns sweep back and forth across the store, and down the aisles like hunting dogs straining at the leash. They reform at the door, a menacing double line. Anna thanks everything holy that Olaf took the day off, though she supposes that might be why the men? women? constructs? Are here today.

"Clear," one says, and a man appears at the door. He wears his hair-blond, but yellower than Elsa's- in a long, thin, braid, and a black bespoke suit hangs from his powerful frame. He has a cold, calculating, sort of face- an image that is not helped by the dark, round, sunglasses he wears. As one body, the soldiers- because what else could they be- kneel, and cross their weapons over their chests in a sort of archaic salute.

The man walks through the plate glass door like any regular customer, but the kneeling soldiers do quite a lot to dispel the illusion.

"Um," Anna says eloquently. "Greetings, uh, An-dragon? What… um. What can I do for you?" She congratulates herself on remembering the honorific.

"I have been watching you," the man says. His voice is raspy like Elsa's, but smooth, and soothing. Like a politician's voice, Anna thinks. The kind of voice that could ask for anything, and you would find yourself giving it to him before you could think otherwise. A very dangerous sort of voice. "I have been watching you, and I have been watching her majesty, the queen…"

"And you've come to put a stop to it, I suppose," Anna interrupts glumly.

"No," the man snaps. He waves a gloved hand, and a luxurious armchair appears before her desk. He sits quickly, a sort of lazy- but still elegant- sprawl. "I should warn you, it is not a healthy life choice to interrupt a dragon. We are proud creatures. Too proud, probably. But no, I am not here to put an end to your ill-advised courtship. It is my job to protect her majesty, the queen, from all harm. She has chosen to play along with your courtship- for whatever reason, far be it from me to question her majesty- and it is my conclusion that it would negatively affect her mood, were your courtship to fail. I am here, not to end your foolish, mortal attempts at romance, but to improve upon your chances of success."

"Ok," Anna crosses her arms, and glares at him as sternly as she can manage, though she is quaking with fear. "Except, it wouldn't be real, if you just told me what to do, you know? Then she'd be dating you, not me. And anyway, I think I'm doing fine. Mostly. Except that time I licked her, which it occurres to me is none of your business, at all." Anna stares into the man's covered eyes, and deliberately doesn't blink. That might be why he wears the glasses, actually.

"I see," the dragon hums appreciatively. "You play a dangerous game. I respect your courage."

"Um. Thanks?" Anna's eyes are starting to itch, but she refuses to blink. "If, um. But, yeah. Um. If you want to tell me about your race, that would be ok, I think? Or, like, if you know anything about Elsa, like what might accidentally offend her?"

"Yes," the man nods slowly. "I suppose that should be allowable. Where to begin? Hmmm…"

"So," Anna sits forward enthusiastically. "Like, I want to do something nice for Elsa, and I was thinking I could make her a food? Like a really special meal thing? And, like, she really likes bacon, and chocolate, because, like who doesn't, right? And I wanted to do something extra special, but I don't really know what a special food would be that a dragon would enjoy?"

"No," the dragon says. "Food is ephemeral. It rots, or is eaten. If you wish to give her majesty a gift that she will enjoy, you should instead consider something permanent and valuable, for her majesty will appreciate one large gift more than many smaller gifts of equal value. Though, I think, more in keeping with your desired message, would be cooking with her. For dragons, hunting is usually a solitary task. Hunting with another is a sign of trust and respect, and cooking, I think, is the closest you are likely to manage. Cooking for her, however, would not be a wise choice- it would be supremely insulting. You would be saying 'I think you are too weak to hunt for your own meal, so I prepared one for you.' Though, of course, you shouldn't presume that she is willing to extend that amount of trust and respect to you, rather, you should…"

* * *

 **AN: So, it's always kindof annoyed me how many fanfictions need tension/drama, so they manufacture it by having one character offend the other, and then the offended party never acknowledges that it was an accident, and you have the first character (usually Anna) have to run after the other, and show this great gesture of apology. Well, that is not a healthy relationship. This is what happens when your characters are mature adults. One accidentally offends the other, the other recognizes that it was an accident, there are apologies, they take a little alone time, then they're fine. Because that's how maturity and communication work.**

 **This chapter consists of a bunch of scraps that got written pretty early on in this story, but didn't really have a place until now. I didn't really want to skip forward a week to halloween this early in their relationship, and I wanted to show a bit of Anna and Elsa interacting naturally before PLOT (que ominous music) so, sorry for the kindof scattered nature of this chapter, but I'm not really sure what I could've done differently, so we're stuck with this.**

 **Also, moar draconic! Wheee! Languages R Fun!**


	13. Chapter 13

"So," Anna hops from one foot to the other. "How do you look?"

"Stupid," comes Elsa's reply, muffled by the safety of the bathroom's closed door. "I look like a mammal."

"Elsa darling," Anna sighs. "That's not a bad thing. Everyone there is going to look like a mammal."

"Not the people that dress like dinosaurs and dragons," Elsa grumbles.

"No one is going to dress like a dinosaur or a dragon," Anna thunks her head into the painted wood of the door.

"Yes they will," Elsa insists. "Dinosaurs and dragons are awesome."

"Elsa, you're being dumb," Anna says. "Come out and show me how you look, or I'm getting the key and coming in." She doesn't mention that she keeps the key in the bathroom.

"Anna, you are a stupid monkey, with stupid monkey traditions," Elsa complains, but she opens the door anyway. Curling, gold edged slippers, check. Baggy, swishing, silken pants, check. Bare midriff. Anna swallows and blushes. Tight green silk strapless thing, and swishing, half-opaque sleeves. Anna regrets picking out Elsa's costume.

"Where's your tiara?" Anna asks as innocently as she can- think about the tiara, not the smooth expanse of perfect, creamy, skin.

"I am not wearing a piece of plastic on my head," Elsa says firmly.

"But you're supposed to be Princess Jasmine," Anna says. "You have to wear the tiara!"

"I could always make the illusion of a tiara?" Elsa sounds hopeful. Like a child on Christmas Day, asking if it's time to open presents yet.

"Nope." Anna takes Elsa's hand before she can retreat back into the bathroom. "The point of Halloween is to dress differently than you usually do. You always wear illusions, so tonight, you have to wear the real thing. That's how it works."

"The real thing?" Elsa blinks. "I can do that. I'll wear a real tiara!"

"Do you have time to fly back to your cave before the party?" Anna asks.

"No," Elsa shrugs, reaches through a hole in the air, pulls through a glittering, gem-studded tiara. "Can I wear this instead?"

"Jesus fuck, Elsa," Anna gasps. "Where did you get that? How much is that worth?"

"It is one of the less valuable pieces of my hoard," Elsa shrugs. "I don't know how many human monies it is worth? It used to belong to the princess of Latvia, but my mother ate her, and long story short, it wound up belonging to me. Anyway, I'm wearing it, ok?"

"Um. Wow," Anna says. "Wow. Freaking triple standard treasure. Yeah, go for it. Wow."

Elsa places the tiara stop her silky white tresses with a cheerful, childlike, grin. "Ok, Aladdin," she says. "I'm ready."

"No," Anna sighs. "I'm still Anna, I'm just dressed as Aladdin. And anyway, it's sexy Aladdin."

"I'm confused," Elsa frowns. "I thought the purpose of this tradition was to pretend to be someone else?"

"Yes." Anna rubs her eyes, and straightens her vest, frees her hand in the process. "It is, but no one is actually trying to disguise themselves."

"Oh," Elsa tilts her head. The tiara falls off, but she catches it. "So I should still call you Anna?"

"Yes. Still call me Anna," the human says. "And if you meet anyone you know, just call them by their real names. Don't dragons have holidays?"

"No," Elsa says. "Holidays are only special because humans place irrational importance on tradition, whereas my race is aware that traditions are not important for their own sakes. Good traditions ought to be kept for the benefit they bring, rather than for the sake of the tradition, bad traditions must be eradicated for the harm that they do, and traditions which neither harm nor help are entirely irrelevant, and we do not bother with them."

"Oh," Anna says glumly. "So you don't want to go to the Halloween party?"

"I never said that," Elsa slips her hand back into Anna's. "I have never been to a party before. I am excited to see the decorations, because I like architecture, and I want to tell you all the ways I could do it better, and I want to see the costumes, because they are all going to be pretending to be dragons and dinosaurs because everyone knows reptiles are awesome, and I want to hear the music, because music is the best thing humans have ever done."

"Alright!" Anna grins, and drags her girlfriend to her car. Elsa idly wonders if light speed isn't such a hard barrier after all. "You're going to love it! There's music, and dancing, and drinking, and maybe don't drink since you might wind up eating everyone or burning down the town or something?"

Elsa nods seriously. "I shall not imbibe any liquid while at this party," she agrees.

"Well, like water and punch and stuff should be fine," Anna assures her. "Well, unless someone spikes the punch again. Or the water. Again. You know what? Maybe yeah, don't drink anything. I'll be drinking, because I'm an adult, but you're… Well, you're a dragon. How old are you, anyway?" They're driving now. Anna barely glances at the road.

"It has been one hundred thirty four years since I hatched," Elsa says.

"Jesus Christ Elsa!" Anna exclaims. Elsa grips the door as the car swerves alarmingly. "You're fucking ancient!"

"Not really," Elsa mumbles. "Members of my race are not considered fully mature until their seventeen-hundredth year. I will be nearly three hundred feet long then." Her voice is quiet- shy, almost- but prideful.

"So you're just a baby?" Anna asks, aghast. "Does this mean I'm a pedo?"

"No Anna," Elsa sighs. "In terms of intelligence, and mental maturity, I am well beyond most humans. Do not measure dragons by human standards. I am fully capable of making choices for myself, unlike human children, and I have many more life experiences than any human child. For all intents, to a human, I am an adult."

"So you _are_ a child?" Anna asks.

"Anna," Elsa sighs again. It is a surprisingly satisfying human convention. "If you insist on mapping draconic ages to the human lifespan, I would be two. Do I act like a two year old?"

"No?" Anna sounds uncertain. "I guess not?"

"How old do I act?" Elsa asks.

"Fuck if I know," Anna says. "Wait. Shit. I guess I shouldn't cuss around you."

"You don't know because I AM NOT HUMAN," Elsa growls. "Why do you insist on treating me like a human? No dragon would ever say that any hundred-and-thirty year old is incapable of making their own decisions. Why are you so insistent that I can be so reliably compared to a human?" Elsa has to remind herself that Anna is fragile. That Anna will not survive her flames if she loses control.

"Because I'm not racist against you!" Anna says surprisingly vehemently. She has stopped the car.

"Anna," Elsa reaches across the cabin and clasps Anna's hand- control, Elsa, she tells herself. "It would be racist to say that I am inferior because of what I am. When I complain about you being a monkey, or a mammal, or whatever, that is racist. I mean it in good fun, but if it bothers you, tell me, and I will stop. Saying that another human is different from you because of their race, that is racist. But acknowledging that a prehistoric predator with a wholly different biology, and an entirely different culture, may, in some ways, have different needs than a human? That is common sense. I expect you to treat me equally, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't treat me differently."

"I don't understand," Anna frowns.

"Let me ask you a question then," Elsa asks. "Do you want me to treat you in exactly the same manner as I would treat another dragon?"

"What?" Anna frees her hand and crosses her arms. "Of fucking course I… I mean, yeah, of course."

"Anna, words are arbitrary strings of sounds," Elsa grumbles. "You will not hurt me with your sounds. Use whatever words are most natural for you."

"Ooooookay? I guess," Anna replies hesitantly. "Whatever. Yeah, treat me like you would treat a dragon."

"So," Elsa says. "A common practice amongst mated dragons is for the larger to grip the smaller with their jaws- around the neck, behind the head. It's a demonstration of strength and trust. We aren't properly aroused, in the same way as a human, but the feeling is not wholly dissimilar. Not arousal, but a sort of thrill? It's hard to explain in English. Are you telling me that you- a victim of domestic violence- wishes to be restrained so completely? Rendered so completely powerless?"

"Well no," Anna shrugs uncomfortably. "That honestly sounds pretty horrible."

"So you wish to be treated differently from how the average dragon would treat another dragon whom they are interested in courting," Elsa says. "Does that mean that I would be mistreating you by treating you appropriately to your needs?"

"I, ah." Anna shrugs helplessly. "I guess not?"

"And if I were to go to a hair salon," Elsa continues, "in my true form- I don't have hair as a dragon, you remember- and I were to ask to purchase a hair cut, could they be faulted for turning me away? No. A hair salon refusing service to a hairless creature isn't racism. A nail salon refusing to paint my claws? That would be."

"I guess that makes sense?" Anna doesn't sound sure, sounds like she is still working through the logic, but she doesn't disagree. "How would you make laws for that though?"

"Laws?" Elsa blinks, and tilts her head. The tiara falls again, and she slams it back onto her head with a growl.

"Like, regulations?" Anna laughs, and rearranges Elsa's hair. "Like when a government tells you what to do?"

"Why should you need laws for this?" Elsa asks. "Treat dragons with respect, and be willing to alter your actions toward them if they ask, like you would with anyone else. Why should you need laws for that? Do you need laws to tell humans not to steal from each other?"

"Yes," Anna says. "Yes we do."

"Humans are stupid," Elsa huffs.

"Yup," Anna laughs wryly. "Anyway, to the party?"

"You're the one who stopped the vehicle," Elsa says. "Would humans really need laws to keep them from mistreating each other?"

"Yup," Anna replies as the car pulls back into the street.

"I see." Elsa blinks. "I may have to alter several of my plans."

"Oh?" Anna laughs. "What plans?"

"Many plans," Elsa says. "It's what I was born for. I plan to annihilate the humanists, as one notable plan, but first, I will need them to know who I am. I need to draw them out. I need to know their members. I have no desire to cover my claws in innocent blood."

"What about Hans?" Anna speaks evenly. It's impossible for Elsa to tell what she is thinking, unused to human expressions as she is.

"Hans was not innocent," Elsa snarls. "I don't know what humans think they know about morality, but in my culture, his actions would not be tolerated. Any other dragon would have acted exactly as I did. You are my Anna, and it is unwise to damage a dragon's treasures. No dragon would ever allow harm to come to come to the object of their affections."

* * *

The building is loud. That's the first thing Elsa notices. The second is the music. A lovely, pounding rhythm that has Elsa swaying happily. There aren't many people there. Seven only, counting Anna and Elsa- Kristoff and Marshmallow are there, of course, Sven and Olaf, and an unknown woman. Blond, like most of Scandinavia. There are only seven people, but Kristoff's home isn't large, and many of the rooms are closed. It feels alarmingly crowded to Elsa.

"Hey!" Kristoff yells over the music. "Anna! Elsa!" He's wearing a baggy, brown, moose costume. "Everyone, Anna and Elsa are here!" None of the other guests react, but Anna cheerfully displays her middle finger, and Elsa grins shyly.

Kristoff turns down the music. "Everyone!" He says again. "Anna and Elsa are here!" A smattering of applause sweeps the room.

"Good job Elsa!" Olaf cries gleefully. "I've been wanting to punch that smarmy bastard for years!" He's dressed as a comically proportioned, beige, velociraptor. Elsa nudges Anna with a grin. The redhead rolls her eyes.

"Ahem," Kristoff says with a pointed glance toward Olaf. "Elsa, let me introduce you to the chief of police in our little town, ms. Alex Oswald.

"Pleased to meetcha miss Elsa," she says, and holds out her hand enthusiastically. She tips her cowboy hat with the other hand. Elsa looks to Anna, a hint of panic in her big, reptilian, blue eyes. Anna nods encouragingly, but Elsa takes a step back.

"Elsa's shy," Anna says, stepping forward, and clasping the offered hand. Elsa growls softly, but Anna ignores her. "Sorry. Give her time. She'll warm up to you."

"It's no trouble," Alex assures her, and gives the hand a vigorous shake. "Nice costumes. Jasmine and Aladdin, right?"

"Yup," Anna nods, and adjusts her vest self-consciously. "Sexy Aladdin, and sexier Jasmine."

"I can see that," the police chief laughs. "I won't keep you any longer." She steps back.

"Right," Kristoff says. "Now that introductions are out of the way, on to the party?"

"I thought this was the party," Elsa says.

"No," Kristoff scratches the back of his head through the felt of his costume. "It's a Halloween party at the bar. Just down the street."

The walk is short and pleasant. Anna walks up front with her friends, Elsa lags behind, watching them joke, and laugh, and chat. Sometimes she repeats what she hears- quietly, to herself. After a few moments, the police chief drops back and walks with her. She watches Elsa near constantly, but she does it discreetly, and Elsa doesn't notice. Or if she does, she doesn't make an issue of it.

"So," Alex says. "Elsa, right?"

Elsa nods wearily. "Yes," she says.

"Where're you from?" asks the police chief. "You're new too, right?"

"Yes," Elsa nods again. "Nearby."

"Sorry," Alex raises her hands in mock surrender. "It's my job. Suspicious of everyone. You seem… off. You all right?"

"I am not used to being around people," Elsa says. "It is something new. It takes some getting used to. I did not mean to offend."

"No offense taken," Alex laughs. Elsa scowls. When Anna or Kristoff laughs at her, it feels harmless, like they are inviting her to share in their amusement. When Alex laughs at her, it sounds mocking. "That's not what I meant though," Alex continues. "You seem… I don't know, I've known shy people."

"This conversation does not interest me," Elsa says abruptly. "Goodbye." She speeds up, catches up to Anna and her friends, and joins in their banter. Her jokes are the same as theirs from earlier, reworded slightly, but they don't notice. Alex does.

* * *

The town is small enough that there is only one bar, and most everyone knows each other. There is no bouncer, no one at the door, and the owner knows Anna and her friends. Knows Elsa too, after they introduce her. The tables are pushed up against the walls, and covered in fake spiderwebs. There are bowls of candy and plastic spiders, and a punch bowl. Lighted plastic skulls and pumpkins hang from the low rafters. The music is loud. Louder than the music at Kristoff's home. Elsa snorts derisively, but doesn't say anything. Anna's grin stretches from one side of her face to the other, and Elsa doesn't want to ruin her mood.

Anna turns abruptly, and takes her hands. Elsa jumps slightly, and let's out a startled squeak, but Anna is dragging her, and she goes along with it. And then Anna is swaying, so she mimics the energetic little human, and Anna swings her around, catches her, dips her low. They dance for a while- a long while, but Elsa loses track of time, but then Anna excuses herself to drink with her friends, and Elsa stands by the wall, watching contentedly.

Marshmallow joins her after a few minutes, but stays quiet at first. Elsa glares at him suspiciously, but doesn't feel any need to force a conversation. He's dressed like a bear, with big, shiny, black plastic claws, but the comically adorable head of an oversized teddy bear.

"You did a good thing," Marshmallow says after a moment. "Kristoff, he was saying you were scaring away Hans. He was forgetting, I am not being stupid, yes? I am thinking we will never again see Hans, hmm?"

"Hmm," Elsa agrees.

"You are scary girl," Marshmallow looks into her eyes. "So I am thinking, 'where this scary girl is from?' And I am not getting an answer. I am thinking, 'this girl, she's good with languages,' yes? 'She speaks languages like she has spoken them all her life,' but where were you growing up where people were speaking everything? And why am not can I be placing your accent? You are not American, I am thinking, and you are not British, and you are not Canadian, and you are not Australian, and you are not Norwegian, so I am thinking. And I am watching the 'James Bond,' and I am thinking that is our Elsa, yes? But there are no 'James Bonds,' and I am remembering your eyes. I was thinking, maybe I had imagined those eyes, yes? I was thinking, 'maybe our Elsa is just good at hiding her accent?' Hmm? Maybe Marshmallow is having too much imaginings? No one has eyes like those, I think. But I see your eyes, and I remember." Elsa is blinking rapidly, has backed up until the table won't let her back up any farther. There's a growl starting, deep in her throat, like the first staccato rumblings of an avalanche, but Marshmallow continues on, heedless of the danger- heedless, or because of. "Now, I am thinking, you are a James Bond super spy, or you are not human, yes? And I have been seeing the movies, and I am not knowing what you are, but you are not speaking your first language, and I am not knowing your first language, so I am not knowing what you are. I do not need to know, I think, but Anna does, yes?"

"She knows," Elsa spits out. The words burn her tongue like the flame she is trying to keep inside.

"Hmm," Marshmallow nods. "Then I am thinking, you should know, peoples are watching you. That one there, police chief Alex, who is being dressed like a cowboy, she has been watching you. And that one there, who is dressed like a soldier. He I am thinking, is a soldier. I have seen those eyes before. Eyes that like to kill, I am thinking? And those two there, they are watching you, but they I think are wanting to be buying you a drink, but they are maybe James Bond super spy, yes? They maybe are not so interested in a drink?"

"I am aware," Elsa says boldly, but her voice shakes.

"You are being afraid?" Marshmallow asks.

"Yes," Elsa nods reluctantly.

"You are telling Marshmallow why you are being afraid, yes? I want for us to be friends." He nods firmly. "You were not being afraid of Hans, I think. You got between Anna and between him, when you were at my ice creams shop, and you went after him, until Anna was stopping you. Were you thinking I was not watching?"

"Isn't murder taboo in your culture?" Elsa asks abruptly. She raises her hands, as if to push him away, but lowers them again, without doing anything. "Why does everyone know what I did to Hans? Is no one going to try to keep it a secret?"

"I am being sorry," Marshmallow says, " but you are changing the topic, yes?"

"Yes I'm scared," Elsa snaps. "Of course I'm ahsahrin scared andrgohng. Do you think I'm an idiot? Do you know how many of my people your species has killed? Do you know how close to extinction my species is, little andrgohng? Do you know how many species your kind has driven to extinction? Your species is bloody terrifying! Of course I'm scared. I'm not sohs pheeohinthivn."

She stands there, breathing heavily. Marshmallow takes a step forward, towers over her like the bear he's dressed as. Elsa might be a prehistoric superpreadator, but she feels very much like prey before him. It makes her angry, violent, panicked. It's an unfamiliar feeling, and she crushes it. It doesn't help her, so she chooses not to feel it. She forces herself to breath normally, wills her hearts to stop their pounding, swallows her fire. Leaves her magical shields- she's not a fool- but willfully combats her body's preparations to fight.

"Ah," Marshmallow says. "You are very brave, and very scary, and I am not very wanting to be your enemy. If you are needing help, you are coming to me, yes?"

"Yes," Elsa says, and Marshmallow's massive arms are abruptly around her. A startled "meep" escapes her, and she writhes uncomfortably, but Marshmallow pats her back gently, and pulls away.

"Even scary girls are needing hugs, sometimes," Marshmallow says. "I know many soldiers. They are not saying when they are needing hugs, but they need hugs sometimes. You are like them, I think."

"No," Elsa says, but there's weary amusement in her eyes. "I don't need hugs."

* * *

"She's, jus' so cold, y'know?" Anna slurs. "Like, I said I love 'er, an' she was jus' like, 'Anna's'been two weeks? An I jus' wan' her to like me so much, y'know?"

"Anna, you've had enough," Kristoff says. He makes a halfhearted grab for her glass, but she holds on stubbornly, and growls at him.

"No!" She snaps. "S'mine. An' yer not listn'n."

"I am listening," Kristoff sighs. "Anna, what are the chances that you're going to remember this in the morning?"

"I'ma 'member," she says stubbornly. "I 'memberd that time you got on the table, and made Marssmlo draw you."

"Oh God," Kristoff says. "Fine. So listen. Elsa isn't like you. She's a different person. Marshmallow likes to go on about eyes, so here's one. Her eyes are different. I guess we don't really look at people's eyes, but if I had to guess, hers would be, like, protective, or something? Fuck. Where's Marshmallow? Um. Anyway, your eyes are more…" Anna blinks up at him. "Well, right now, they are very very drunk. But. Ok. Starting over. Elsa's shy, or something. She doesn't really know how to interact with people, but she tries, for you, Anna. She puts in a lot of effort to do the things you like, and be with your friends. It is so painfully obvious she likes you, that a blind mole could tell from forty feet underground. Sure, she's not a very touchy person, as far as I can tell. Hell, she might be ace. You need to learn to deal with that, or find a new girlfriend. You're a very physical person. I don't think you've ever been in a relationship where there wasn't sex in the first week, not that it's any of my business. And there's not a problem with that. It's how you show affection. Your love language I guess? And you aren't shy- God, you're the fucking opposite of shy- you don't have any trouble saying what you mean, but Elsa's not you. She shows her feelings differently."

"She says she can't fin me pretty," Anna complains. "She'says she's not able to?"

"Ok," Kristoff shrugs. "Then she probably _is_ asexual. Don't bug her about it. One day, she might decide to have sex, or she might not, but you need to go into that relationship knowing that she will probably never be able to see you as 'pretty,' and you need to accept that you might never have sex. There's more to love than that. Now, you are a very physical person, you've got to decide if you're ok with that. It's fine if you're not, we won't think any less of you, but it's not fair to expect something from Elsa that she can't, or won't give. If you can't love her for who she is, end it now. It'll be easier for both of you. But if you can, you need to do it. You need to let her be her. You can't ask her to change for you, because she won't. She might try to, but people don't really change."

"Thas good'vice," Anna says. "Where'd you hear't?"

"Love experts," Kristoff says. "So what's it going to be? You going to break up with her, or stop trying to make her change?"

Anna's face twists. At first, Kristoff thinks she's going to cry, then she vomits, messily, across the floor. "I'm'a 'rible person," she says.

"Yup," Kristoff agrees. "But isn't everyone? Should I get Elsa?"

"No," Anna grabs for her drink again, but Kristoff intercepts her, and downs it quickly. "Don' wanna make'er see me like this," Anna says. "I fuggin love'er."

"We know, Anna," Kristoff laughs. "But you want to know a secret?" Anna nods sullenly, so he continues. He makes an apologetic gesture towards the bartender. "I think, Anna, that Elsa would want to help you. You know why? Because she loves you too, and love is wanting to help. She hasn't said it, maybe, but I think it's pretty obvious. You want me to get her for you?" Anna nods, and he calls over his boyfriend. A moment later, Elsa is standing over her too.

"What happened?" Elsa demands. "Are you alright? Is she alright? Is she hurt?"

"She's fine," Kristoff rubs his eyes tiredly. "She did it to herself. Just get her home safe, clean her up, she'll be fine."

"She did it to herself?" Elsa blinks, tilts her head. The tiara falls, she catches it, leaves it on the counter.

"Alcohol," Marshmallow says. "She was been drinking?"

"She drank alcohol?" Elsa asks. "Why? It's poison. Doesn't she know it's poison? Anna, don't you know it's poison?"

"Yeh," Anna frowns blearily. "S'good tho. Makes… Makes you all fuzzy? 'Lsa? Why're you all fuzzy?"

"I'll heal you," Elsa whispers, and scoops up her girlfriend. "Once we're outside. Don't worry."

"No!" Anna swats Elsa half-playfully. "F'I wann'd be sober, wouldn't've gotten drunk."

"What?" Elsa blinks, tilts her head. "You… What?"

"Elsa," Kristoff drags his hand down his face, and starts over. "Just, whatever's going on, let her have her way. It's easier. She'll be fine. Get her home, don't let her drive."

Elsa nods solemnly, and walks to the door. Kristoff sighs. "She always does this," he complains. "Every time. Gets wasted, makes a mess, leaves me to clean it up. Every time."

* * *

"Elsa?" Anna mumbles, from the cradle of the dragon's arms.

"Yes Anna?" Elsa frowns with worry.

"Yer pretty," Anna says with a sort of absent grin. "Are all dragons this pretty?"

"Most of us pick appearances that are considered physically attractive by humans, yes," Elsa replies.

"Oh," Anna reaches up and grasps clumsily at Elsa's hair. "Are you'll asesule… Asextule… Ace-ex-you-lah? Aseh…"

"Asexual?" Elsa interjects. "I'm not sure that's such a great description of us? We're… similar, maybe? I'm a different species Anna. I am different from humans."

"Buh, like, yer all… all… not touchy?" Anna blinks. "Dat's so sad… So much pretty, that'll never get to…"

"Anna, please hush," Elsa nips her nose.

"Otay," Anna grins. She looks around. "My car's dat way."

"Yes," Elsa says. "But I was told not to let you drive, and I have little desire to try to learn myself. Certainly not tonight."

"Oh." Anna frowns, and goes back to staring back up at Elsa. She's more interesting than the surroundings anyway. "So how're we gettin home?" She reaches up and pokes Elsa's cheek. "You're pretty smooth," she observes.

"I intend to carry you," Elsa ignores the hand.

"Oh. Ok," Anna agrees. "Elsa?"

"Yes Anna?" Elsa tits her head inquisitively.

"Ima be sick," Anna decides.

"Yes, Anna, you are si…" Elsa is cut off by the abrupt torrent of vomit. "I see," she says.

"Got you too," Anna says mournfully. "An' now yer pretty… stuff's all gross…"

"It doesn't matter," Elsa says.

* * *

Anna vomits a few more times, but after the second, she seems much more alert, and doesn't again. Only a block or two from the party, the crowd is dissipated enough, that Elsa feels safe ducking into an alley, and working her magic. It's simple for her to reach out with her titanic mental prowess, and punch a dirty, mind shattering, hole in reality. Simple, also, to step through, and drop casually into Anna's home. Her faux human legs flex, and absorb the impact smoothly. If she had been in her true form, the floor would have crumpled under the abrupt impact, but shape-changing magic is an odd thing, and her great weight is elsewhere. Or perhaps nowhere.

Anna smells of vomit, so Elsa carries her to the bathroom, carefully lays her in the tub, and turns on the water.

"Are?" Anna hiccups. "A bath?"

"Yes Anna," Elsa caresses her face gently. "You threw up on yourself, remember?"

"I 'member," she says. "Got some on you too. 'Member that too."

"Yes Anna," Elsa says, and removes the human's sodden clothes- swiftly, and efficiently, not lovingly, or slowly, like Anna has fantasized about.

"Mmm," Anna hums, and raises her arms helpfully. "S'ok if you look. You're so… great… You've earned…"

"Anna," Elsa sighs. "I…"

"Join me," Anna tugs at Elsa's clothing.

Elsa sighs, strips quickly, and climbs into the tub. Her skin is pale, white almost, and largely unblemished- unmarked, but for the angry red scar under her right arm. Her ribs stand out starkly, a ladder of pale ridges, rising and falling quickly- too quickly, if Anna's drunken estimation holds any weight. Anna's eyes sweep appreciatively down Elsa's lithe body, but then Elsa is assaulting her with a bar of soap. Anna squirms, but Elsa cleans her quickly, cleans herself even quicker, then stands and grabs the towel.

"Awe," Anna complains. "Elsa, stay."

"Ask me again when you are better," she says, drying herself. "Tonight, no. You need to sleep." Anna pouts, but she doesn't complain when Elsa drains the tub.

* * *

 **AN: Well this chapter is very late. Sorry. I would give some kind of sob story about how I lost my computer or something, but the real reason is I got super drunk and wrote something else (even weirder) and I got a bit distracted… I might post the new thing later if I decide that it's any good XD**

 **Anyway, this chapter is written now, so no harm done? As always, huge thanks to all the followers out there. You all are amazderful. Also, huge thanks to the like half-dozen of you that review every chapter. You all are a huge encouragement, even (or perhaps especially) when you give criticism, so thanks a million. You all get smiley face stickers. You know who you are. I probably would have gotten distracted and abandoned this fic without you.**


	14. Chapter 14

"Yes, sir, there can be no doubt," the chief of police says, turning the heavy tiara over in her hands.

"You're certain?" The Lord Wesselton's- Alan's- voice is thin and reedy, weak with age, but with the sort of iron core that brooks no insubordination.

"Yes. Certain, sir," she says. "The tiara is solid gold, sir, and there are gemstones. Diamonds and a few rubies. Little ones. We place it at more than thirty thousand dollars."

"Only thirty thousand?" Wesselton asks. "That seems a bit low?"

"Yes sir," Alex says. "Of course sir, only, she wore it to this pathetic town's classless little gathering, and sir? She doesn't act human. She acts… I don't know…"

"Like a dragon?" Wesselton prompts. He sounds gleeful, acquisitive.

"Like she's never met another human, sir," the police chief says. "I can't find her records anywhere, certainly not in Norway. Hell, as far as I can tell, she doesn't even have a last name. And sir, this local bully? Records of domestic abuse? I think she killed him sir. I think he maybe tried to hurt her, and I think she killed him."

"That's a lot of 'think,' and 'as far as I can tell,' miss Alex," Wesselton says.

"Yes sir, of course sir," she replies. "But I'm sure sir, and there are other people in town. Suspicious people, sir. If this Elsa isn't a dragon, one of them has to be."

"Why would that be miss Alex?" Wesselton's voice is stern, like the crack of a whip. A very old, flimsy sort of whip.

"Sir," she replies. "The humanists are here."

* * *

"Mpfh," Anna groans. "Doorbell, Elsa. Doorbell. Head hurts. Make stop."

"I fail to understand why you should wish to keep your hangover," Elsa mutters, standing.

"Wow, look at you," Anna grumbles. "Where'd you pick up a fancy word like that?"

"Internet," the dragon snaps. "I did research last night. I was worried." The doorbell rings again.

"Nice," Anna mutters. "You're adorable. Doorbell?"

"Of course," Elsa nods gracefully. She returns after a moment, clutching her tiara. The tiara she wore to the party last night. Her eyes are huge and round, darting around the room as if expecting attackers to spring from every nook and shadow.

"Elsa," Anna groans. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"I…" Elsa closes her eyes for a moment, opens them again. "I left this at the party last night. I left a tracking spell on it. I figured, if the humanists were watching, they'd take it. It was a way to draw them out without getting you involved. I figured maybe they'd hold an auction, try to get me to come to them- I'd play along, understand? Or they would put it on display in a museum, see if I come after it. Set a trap. They don't like collateral damage, see? Every dead innocent means a chance for the authorities to get involved, every live innocent, someone they have to share their rewards with."

"So what's the problem?" Anna winces. "It got returned. They didn't find you. Oh well, plan failed, try again tomorrow?"

"No," Elsa snaps. She starts pacing. "They were watching. I know they were watching. I'm sure of it. I don't know which one it was, but people were watching. I'm sure at least one of them was a humanist. There are a lot of the horrid little mammals, and not too many new people in this little town. If they're anything approaching intelligent, and I'm sure they are, they have to be following each of us. They have to be the ones that found my tiara. What are they doing? How many steps ahead do they think I'm thinking?"

"Steps?" Anna asks. She's starting to wish she had taken Elsa up on the offer to cure her hangover. "What do you mean? Why didn't you track it earlier?"

"I was distracted," Elsa grumbles. "Taking care of you. Your existence ruins so many of my plans."

"Sorry," Anna blushes. She isn't terribly sorry. "Steps?"

"Yes," Elsa says. "Suppose I were to lie to you. Suppose I were to say I have seven chickens, and suppose you have reason to doubt me."

"Ok?" Anna says.

"Now, you doubt me," Elsa continues, "so you know I might be lying. That's the first step in this deception. But maybe I _want_ you to think I'm lying. Maybe I really do have seven chickens, but I want you to doubt that. I want you to think I have six, or eight, or none. By saying that I have seven, and making you think I'm lying, I am able to convince you that I have a different number more effectively. The second step. But you're also pretty clever, so you think I might have been pretending to lie to deceive you, so maybe I actually was lying, so that you'll think I don't want you to believe that I have seven chickens, so you _do_ think that I have seven chickens, so I win. The third step. I could go on, but I think you take my point."

"Oh my god," Anna groans. "Who actually thinks like that?"

"I do," Elsa says. "And so does anyone that wants to make a plan, but they don't always think as far ahead as I do. So now, I need to figure out how many steps ahead the humanists are thinking."

"Maybe there's a tracking device?" Anna proposes.

"No," Elsa says. "They know where I am living. They have no real need to track me to my cave. Maybe to find my treasure, but they will find it quickly enough if I die, I don't think that's a realistic motivation here, and if they returned it to this address… I want you to leave Anna. Go to my race's underground retreat. I want you safe from the coming conflict."

"Or what?" Anna sits up and winces. "You're going to leave like in all those books? Or you're going to… I don't know. My head hurts."

"What?" Elsa blinks a few times. Makes her characteristic clicking, chuckling, noise. "No. Of course not! I've read your books too. I've read those characters chasing after each other, almost dying in the elements, getting captured, getting mugged. They always wind up needing the creature that ran from them 'for their own good.' I'm not an idiot, Anna. If you don't want to cooperate, I'm not going to force you. I just think it would be wise to remove you to a safe location."

"Oh." Anna blinks, and tilts her head- a surprisingly draconic gesture from the human. "That's actually pretty reasonable."

"So you'll go somewhere safe?" Elsa asks hopefully. "My race's stronghold, perhaps?"

"Naw," Anna rubs her temples. "I'm with you through thick and thin. I'm not as safe here, sure, but I get to be with you, and if something happens to you, at least it happens to both of us."

"That is very illogical," Elsa grumbles. "I'm more durable than you. If something happens to both of us, chances are, I'll survive and you won't. I honestly can't imagine a much worse outcome than that. If we had more time, I would insist that we meet with my father, give you your immortality, fit you out with magical protections, but events are moving quickly, and we don't have that time."

"Eh," Anna says. "I love you. Love will protect me. The universe isn't that cruel."

"Anna, the universe killed my mother," Elsa makes a noise Anna's never heard before- a quiet half groan, half growl. "The universe is a horrible place. I'm not going to force you into hiding- I'm not going to make you leave. I believe that it is important that you decide your own life; it wouldn't be healthy by either of our cultures' estimations, if I were to force you into something you didn't want, even for your own good. Just… Be careful, ok? I don't want to lose anyone else."

"Yeah," Anna agrees readily. "I'll be careful." But they both know careful is not in her nature.

* * *

"Elsa?" Anna asks.

"Yes?" The dragon shifts her long body, a kind of writhing, curling, slithering, motion.

"Do you…" Anna swallows. "Someone… told me… that hunting together is like trusting? Like showing affection, or something… And that… cooking together is the closest we can get? Since I'm squishy and human?"

The great lizard blinks slowly, shuffles her wings like a deck of leather tents. The barbed tip of her tail twitches. "I would love to cook with you, Anna," she says.

"You…" Anna blinks. "Awesome! You want steak? Or… Pork chops… Or… God I'm glad I'm not a vegetarian."

"A vegetarian?" Elsa tilts her horned head.

"Yeah… Um." Anna shrugs. "Someone that doesn't eat meat? They think eating animals is wrong or some bullshit like that?"

"You… you eat animals?" Elsa's tail lashes dangerously. "Actual living beings?"

"You're a carnivore!" Anna laughs playfully. "Don't tell me you don't eat animals. I've seen you eat meat."

"Anna," Elsa's voice is deadly even. "No dragon has eaten a living creature in centuries. If attacked, sure, we fight back, and if we kill, of course we eat the remains- we're not wasteful. But we don't seek out live prey. Anna, we're not sadistic."

"You what?" Anna realizes abruptly that Elsa is serious. "You don't… What do you eat then?"

"We use magic." Elsa stands and paces. "We conjure our food. Nothing gets hurt. We eat meat, but we don't hurt preybeasts- lesser species… um."

"Animals?" Anna prompts.

"Sure," Elsa nods slowly. "Animals. We don't hurt them. I thought… Your technology? That you grew your meats in vats or something? I thought I read that it was possible for your species now?"

"I guess we could?" Anna shrugs uncomfortably. "I've never really thought about it. Why do you care? They're just… Well…"

"Humans are just mammals," Elsa snaps. "For centuries, we thought you couldn't speak, then we discovered that you have words! Not as many as we do, and with less complicated, less precise, grammar, but language! You think, you feel, you talk. If I were to tear off your leg, you would feel it, you would scream, or cry, or whatever else it is humans do when they hurt. Imagine how horrified we were to discover that a species we routinely hunted were thinking, feeling, creatures!"

"That's… Damn," Anna gasps. "That's pretty horrible. Damn. But animals aren't people. They don't talk, and they don't build things they're… just dumb animals."

"Did you know that Dolphins have their own languages?" Elsa asks. "I speak most of them. Sure, dolphins are advanced 'for animals,' so another example. Many types of monkeys have learned sign language. Many of them even fashion tools. One of those species has invented a way to go to the moon- that's you by the way. Too close to 'human' to count as 'animal?' Did you know that I speak some of the meerkat languages? They don't have a lot to say- they only have a few hundred words, and their grammar is nearly non-existent, but they speak. I've talked to one colony a few times. They had some very interesting things to say about the dangers of warthogs. Or is intelligence not a factor? Is it that 'animals' don't feel pain? Do you know what happens if I pull the legs off a horse? It screams. Not like a human, and not like a dragon, but it screams. Do you think it won't try to escape? That it won't fight back? How exactly would you have me measure suffering?"

"Oh my god," Anna gasps, crumples in on herself. "I never thought… Oh my god."

"We made a mistake with humans," Elsa says. "My species did. We should never have hunted you. We won't make that mistake again. Oh, if we're attacked, we'll retaliate. If I see a humanist, I will destroy them so utterly that they are no longer recognizable, that no atom remains bonded to its neighbors, but I shan't hunt humans, and I will not hunt any other animal. Do the same, and I can't imagine anyone would fault you."

"Ok!" Anna says quickly. "I can do that… I… assume this means you don't want to cook after all?"

"Of course I want to cook," Elsa says kindly, brushes Anna's face with the soft back edge of her wing. "Just, maybe let me get the ingredients?"

"Sure," Anna nods agreeably. "Steak- that's cow meat, and bacon, um. Pork? And you don't mind if I use seasonings, right? They're all from plants. I think."

"It's fine," Elsa laughs her clicking, stuttering, laugh. "Humans eat cows? I would have thought cows were too big?"

They cook well together. Anna sprinkles pepper in Elsa's hair. Elsa licks her. Almost before they know it, the steaks are tenderized, marinated, seasoned, stuffed with bacon, and in the oven. They chat about playful nothings as their meals cook. About the unfortunate scarcity of reptile costumes at the Halloween party, about the meaning of the fast approaching Christmas, about movies, and what they should watch next.

* * *

"Draconic masculine endings?" Elsa prompts.

"Masculine?" Anna bangs her head down on the table. "I don't know masculine. I know neuter. I can do neuter. I know feminine. I don't know goddamn masculine."

"Yes you do," Elsa says encouragingly- soothingly, though her voice has the characteristic rasp of a too-rigid throat not built for human speech. Anna thinks of it like an accent. A sexy exotic accent, when she's honest with herself. She blushes. Elsa continues, "they're all the same, aside from a few minor changes in the last few runes. Just start with the nominative."

"Nominative," Anna repeats. She looks up and frowns. "-ang?"

"Excellent," Elsa's great, scale-rimmed eyes blink encouragement. "What's next?"

"What's…" Anna thinks for a moment. "Genitive? -thang? Um. Dative? Fuck. -phang? What's next?"

"Good," Elsa says. "Accusative?"

"Uh. -Ssang?" Anna's face is screwed up in concentration. Elsa lets out a brief, clicking, snicker. Anna sticks her tongue out at the dragon. "Um. Vocative's the last one, right?"

"Yes darling," Elsa's tail twitches.

"Um. It's -anang, right?" Anna eyes Elsa's tail murderously.

"See!" Elsa shakes her horned head. "You do know the masculine endings! Are you up for masculine plural?"

"Oh god there's a plural?" Anna groans. "It's not just like the verbs?"

"Anna, it's only the first person that doesn't have a plural verb ending," Elsa deliberately rolls one big blue eye.

"Oh." Anna blinks. "Right. So, um… There are plural noun endings?"

"Yes," Elsa clicks. "The masculine nominative plural is '-ahng,' can you figure out the rest?"

Whatever Anna was going to say in reply is truncated by the insistent chime of the doorbell. She sighs, makes a vaguely apologetic gesture, stands.

"Elsa," she calls a moment later. "Did you order a coffin?"

"A coffin?" The dragon stands, shrugs into her human shape. "What use would I have for a coffin?"

"Sure, I don't know," Anna calls back. "But it's addressed 'Ms. Elsa, the Norwegian Dragon.' Wait… That's weird…"

"Anna!" Elsa cries, spinning out shields as fast as she can. "Get away!" And then she's beside the rough, wood-slat box, flicking the door closed, and Anna is peering over her shoulder, wondering how she got there so fast. But the box doesn't explode, and it doesn't leak dangerous chemicals, and Elsa is left blinking sheepishly. "Sorry," she says after a moment. "I panicked."

"It's fine," Anna laughs. "You're cute. What do you think is in it?"

"Hmm." Elsa says. "We have had time to prepare. If it were explosive, I think my shields would stop it… The humanists must know that, so it would have exploded already… Hmm."

"Do you think it's dangerous?" Anna moves to see more clearly, to get around Elsa, but a firm pale hand keeps her sheltered behind the dragon's deceptively human body.

"I can't imagine what the humanists would send that wouldn't be dangerous," Elsa frowns, cocks her head, blinks. Anna chokes back a laugh.

"Well," Anna says. "There's one way to find out." She steps quickly around Elsa, and gives the timber lid a rough pull. It doesn't budge, but her actions do prompt Elsa to tear it free. There, nestled in a bed of straw, glints the unmistakable sheen of gold, and the shy glimmer of silver, and the coy sparkle of gemstones.

"Huh," Elsa says. She casts a few quick detection spells, silently, and without movement to keep from worrying Anna. She reaches down and plucks out a heavy golden circlet. Laurels, from a long fallen empire. "This… This belonged to my mother," she says. "Ahsarin. What are they playing at? This was in our cave when she died! What sick game? Why taunt me?"

* * *

"...unknown number of hostiles," the man says. He wears black- tough nylon and Kevlar and heavy, laden, combat webbing. A crisp, rectangular white patch above his left breast claims he is called Johnson. "Remember, our target is the dragon. Don't get distracted. If there's a threat, deal with it, but stay on the mission. No trophies, no going out of your way just to boost your 'score.' Smith, I'm looking at you."

"Sir," the contractor nods sheepishly, and runs a gloved hand through his short, blond, hair.

"Right," Johnson continues. "We don't know when deployment is, so sleep in shifts, and know where your kit is. Study a map of the area. I don't want any snafus." His face is ghostly, demonic almost, in the dim red light. The room shakes violently, throws him against his restraints. "Any questions?"

"Sir," one of the other contractors says. Withers, her name is. Probably. "A dragon? We've all read the briefing, but… A dragon?"

"Fuggin f'ry tale," Mcmannon, their sniper, mumbles.

"You're new here," Johnson ignores the big sniper. "We're getting paid. A lot. I once had a customer, wanted me to shoot some guy in Argentina. Said the guy was Hitler, but he didn't look anything like the guy. It doesn't matter what the employer thinks, it matters what they're paying, and we're getting paid enough to overthrow several small countries."He doesn't mention the titanic reptile he saw once, on a forgotten mountain in Peru.

"I… Take your point," Withers nods brusquely. The aircraft shakes again, then jolts magnificently as it slams heavily down on the tarmac. The squeal of abused tires drowns out conversation for a moment.

"Right," Johnson says. "Anyone else? Ask them now or wait forever."

"Hostiles?" Smith asks. "You said hostiles, like more than one? What have we got there? Any faction infighting bullshit we should know about?"

"Good question," Johnson says, unbuckling. "Apparently there are some people- Humanists, they're called. Likely hostile, PMC types. Shouldn't be too scary, but be on your toes. The employer said there might be as many as three factions. The first is apparently attacking this 'dragon' for religious reasons. Thinks they're demons or something? The second is some kind of glory hunting macho crew. Them, we can probably just wait for them to make a mistake. Assuming they exist." There is a smattering of laughter. "The last, our employer said might not be there. People in it for 'immortality.' The employer said they are probably more careful than the the two, they might hang back and purchase what they're after later, once everything's said and done. Might be some kind of resentment there that we can leverage, but we won't know 'til shit goes pear shaped."

"Sir," Withers asks. "Do we know who we're working for?"

"First rule of this kind of job Withers," Johnson laughs- not exactly kindly. "Never ask about the employer, but we're on a Wesselton Industries plane, so I'll give you three guesses."

* * *

 **AN: it should be noted that my views are not necessarily the same as those of my characters. I eat meat, so either I'm a hypocrite, or I don't believe the words I wrote for Elsa. No comment on which of those options it is…**

 **Also, continued thanks to all of the followers/favoriters. You all are wonderful! Special thanks also to those of you who continually write reviews. You all are how I get better.**

 **Also also, moar languages stuffs! It should be possible for those of you who care to reconstruct most of the noun declensions now…**


	15. Chapter 15

"What's that?" Anna asks, peering over Elsa's vast, scaled, shoulder.

"A gift," Elsa mutters. "For the humanists. I wouldn't recommend opening it." She's doing… something… to a briefcase, bending delicate golden strips into elaborate, hinged, hoops and spirals.

"Oh," Anna nods sagely. "So it's dangerous?"

Elsa gives one of her clicking, snorting, chuckles. "Yes, a bit."

"Oh," Anna nods again. "So if it's a… gift? For the humanists? And they're in this town…"

"Why have I waited until now to build it?" Elsa finishes for her. "Because it would be very… unwise… for you to open it, and I worried that, even with my warning, your curiosity would get the better of you. Now, I think it's an acceptable risk, what with the humanists closing in, planning their move- whatever that may be."

"Oh," Anna says. "I won't open the briefcase. Won't even touch it. Nope. Didn't even think about touching it nope."

"Good," Elsa clicks. She nods, apparently satisfied, and flips the lid closed. The latches engage with an ominous, final-sounding, clack. "So. Anna."

"Yes?" Anna swallows nervously. Her eyes don't leave the plain brown briefcase. It seems much too innocuous to be dangerous.

"The other day, you and I cooked." Elsa blinks slowly. Anna gets the sense that she's missing something here. "That could loosely be considered a draconic 'date.'"

"Um, yes?" Anna blushes, and eyes the sleek curve of Elsa's jaw.

"I would like to go on a human date," Elsa says. She blinks, long and slow.

"Oh!" Anna replies. She gives a few confused blinks to help Elsa with the body language. "Yes! Of course! Um? Coffee then a movie? That's a date, right? There's a little coffee shop just a few blocks from… Well it's a Starbucks, so, not precisely small, but I really…"

"That sounds wonderful Anna," the dragon rumbles warmly, and suddenly, Anna gets the sense that she's a knight, buckling on her armor before a battle. There's an odd look in those great sapphire eyes- not sapphire. Anna wonders why she ever thought sapphire. Ice. Like chips of militant cold, but there's something else in Elsa's great, alien, eyes. Something sad and resolved. Something mournful. Anna is reminded of a phrase from draconic. "Ek lgohganthsa ahtheesthanssin." It's complicated; all of draconic is. And it doesn't translate perfectly; nothing in draconic ever does. It means something like "I know what it is to be sad," but that's not quite right. There's something in "lgohganthsa," that implies wisdom. Like, this knowledge makes you better somehow. Like it tells you something of the way the world works. And there's something in "ahtheesthanse," that means more than just sorrow. Something that speaks of things lost, and senseless conflict, and inevitability.

Anna abruptly understands what her friend Marshmallow means by his talks about eyes, and the only way she can describe Elsa's eyes is "Ek lgohganthsa ahtheesthanssin." She feels that marshmallow would understand the phrase, though he has never learned a word of draconic in his life.

"Sorry darling, what was that?" Elsa asks.

"Oh," Anna mutters shyly. "Um. Ek lgohganthsa ahtheesthanssin."

"Andreevgalth andruvgalthn," Elsa replies. Anna gives a confused blink, so Elsa continues, "it means; 'it is calm before it storms.' Andreevgal is the calm, warm, peaceful, eastern wind. Andruvgal is the stormy, violent, chilly, western wind. There is a tornado when they meet."

Anna shudders. "The calm before the storm?" She asks. "Like in Return of the King?"

"Yes," Elsa snickers. A shallow, rapid clicking. Like bubble wrap under a steamroller. "Return of the Queen."

"Yes." Anna swallows nervously, wraps her slender, freckled, arms around Elsa's neck compulsively. The dragon gives one of her rare chainsaw purrs. "Elsa, I love you," Anna says.

"I know," Elsa snorts. "Come on. Let's walk to this coffee shop of yours. Do they have chocolate?"

And just like that, the mood shatters, hides beneath an artificial halcyon facade. "Of course love," Anna snorts.

The walk is short and cold. Elsa grumbles something unintelligible about being cold blooded. Anna laughs, and offers her coat, but the atmosphere feels forced. Like they are actors on some Byzantine stage, waiting for the right que. Waiting for act three. But act three doesn't start, and Anna doesn't know how apt the comparison is. Doesn't know that it's still only act one.

Nothing happens on the walk. From Elsa's hyper-aware soldier's prowl, Anna expected something to. Expected men in masks to leap out from behind that dumpster. Expected men with machine guns in that van. Expected… well, she's not entirely sure what she expected, but nothing happens. Elsa complains darkly of the cold, and snuggles into Anna's warmth- Anna feels something rough and cold over Elsa's faux human skin. Anna makes a comment about the "indestructible predator" being laid low by a little cold, and the glare she receives in return makes her wish she hadn't, but then they're at the coffee shop.

It's cozy. Big plate glass windows let the heat leak out, but there's enough warmth for it not to matter overmuch. There's a fireplace in the corner, and a fire crackling happily. The shop is crowded and loud- the happy kind of loud, that crowds of humans get when they forget how horrible the world is. Anna darkly resents their naïveté, never mind that she would be one of them an hour ago.

"Anna," Elsa says abruptly, as they stand in line. "I have decided that your Jesus… I think his blood was vodka."

"What?" Anna snorts. "Why?"

"Yes," Elsa nods seriously, but there's amusement twinkling in her eyes. The sorrow and resolve is still there, but the amusement is layered over it like a curtain. "Well," she continues, "in the history of the language Greek, there was no real difference between the word for 'wine,' and any other alcohol, and during the last supper, Jesus claims that his blood is wine."

"He was being allegorical," Anna chokes out a laugh in spite of herself.

"Yes," Elsa nods with feigned seriousness, "that is the common interpretation, and the man did like his metaphors, but consider; earlier in the novel-" Anna glares at her playfully, so she amends herself, "earlier in the… tale… he attends a party where the 'wine' read 'alcohol' runs out. Now, Jesus turns water into alcohol, to fill the gap as it were, but, it is said that this was the best alcohol the guests ever tasted. Isn't it conceivable, that in a world that had never had vodka- one of your strongest alcohols, remember- would think that it was the 'best alcohol' they had ever tasted? And think, a little vodka must go a long way- I did some research the other night, remember? When you got drunk? So vodka must be quite potent, and the ancient humans would water down their alcohol and still become inebriated. Straight vodka might literally kill them, especially with them drunk already, as the bible claims. Obviously, vodka would need to be watered down in that situation. Now, is it more believable that Jesus performed transmutation magic- a very challenging magic that even I still have trouble with, and I'm four times his age- is it more plausible that he did that, or that he 'took one for the team?' I think that's how the euphemism goes."

"Oh my god Elsa," Anna snickers.

"Precisely," Elsa nods in parody of a philosopher. "Clearly, Jesus bled into the waters, and his clear vodka blood mixed in, and that's how the guests knew that it used to be water. And look at the end of your creation story! Your God said 'go forth and multiply.' Well, alcohol apparently lowers inhibitions. What better way to cause copulation in your silly ashamed mammal race than with alcohol? Strong alcohol especially. Clearly, this God must be fond of alcohol, so when he went to make a son, of course his blood was this god's favorite liquor. Erm. Liquid. I meant liquid."

"Oh my god Elsa," Anna cackles. "That is the most fucking insane theory I've ever heard." She's still laughing. Elsa grins pridefully.

"A hot chocolate please," Elsa says politely, and Anna realizes they're at the front of the line already.

"Of course," the barista nods happily- some little community college thing. "Twenty-eight krone?"

Elsa produces a thick gold coin, stamped on the visible side with a bold, shielded, eagle. Heavy too, from the ponderous, vaguely metallic, thunk it makes when she places it on the counter.

"Um?" The woman says.

"Yes," Elsa says pleasantly. "It's called a doubloon. Used by the Spanish some… A while ago. It's gold. Worth four hundred American dollars for the weight of gold alone. Some five million to a collector. If you feel uncomfortable with the idea of accepting an unknown currency, my… girlfriend? Girlfriend- Anna will pay in kroner- Norwegian money- whatever."

The girl nods, wide eyed, pockets the doubloon.

"That's paying for Anna too," Elsa says pleasantly, and the girl nods again, quickly.

"Elsa," Anna frowns, bites her lip.

"I know," Elsa replies sadly. "But soon, it won't matter. I'm sorry. Anna? What are you getting?"

"Um." Anna blinks. "Jesus Elsa. Um. A mocha. Um. Fuck it. I guess a slice of lemon pound cake? And. Um. A cookie? Please?" The barista nods hurriedly, and Elsa leads Anna to a free chair near the fire.

"Happy birthday," Elsa says with a small smile. "Here. I've got something for you. It's human social convention to give gifts on birthdays, right?"

"You remembered!" Anna's voice is a high, excited, squeal.

"Of course," Elsa says. She places her briefcase on the floor carefully beside herself, and produces a small, wrapped, box. The wrapping paper is immaculate and tidy- none of the sloppy tape or uneven folds she expected- it glints silver in the dim light.

"What is it?" Anna asks, holds out her hands reverently.

"Open it and find out." Elsa's eyes are narrow reptilian slits, and there's an odd, high pitched, nearly silent, ringing coming from her throat. Sort of like air escaping from a leaking tire.

Anna takes the package. It's small, she realizes. Smaller than she thought. Small enough to fit in her hands. She tugs carefully at the paper, blushes under Elsa's intense stare. She wrestles the paper off intact, folds and pockets it carefully. She hefts the small velvet box within, opens it slowly. There's a ring inside, nestled in the red velvet like a baby bird looking innocently from its nest. It's gold. A simple shining band, but there's an inscription. At first, Anna thinks it's an etching, or an inlay, but it glows faintly like red fire. It's an inscription she would recognize anywhere.

"One ring to rule them all," she says. "One ring to find them, one ring to bring them all, and in the darkness, bind them… Is this…"

"The one ring of power?" Elsa finishes. Blinks innocently, but the odd keening continues. Is she nervous, Anna wonders. "Yes," Elsa shrugs. She shrugs again. "A reproduction, at least. It won't turn you into that horrible Smeagol creature, and there aren't other rings for you to rule but, well, it's as close as I could reasonably make…"

"So… It will turn me invisible?" Anna gasps. "Are the letters magical?"

"Yes and yes," Elsa says quickly.

"This is, hands down, the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me," Anna whispers. "Oh my god Elsa thank you so so much!" The odd noise stops.

"I'm glad you like it," Elsa says with a happy purr. "Now, I hate to do this on your birthday, but… Please wear it. Until everything's over, at least. And don't get involved. I know what I'm doing- probably- and I'll be fine, but I'm worried for you. You're squishy and human, and… This is not how I wanted to say this… Your world will change forever today, and I'm sorry for that. This last month and a half have been the happiest of my life, but it's unsustainable. Understand, I want our relationship, whatever it is, to continue. I will destroy anything that stands in our way, but as it is, it's not sustainable."

"Elsa, what?" Anna's lip trembles.

"Let me finish," Elsa says nervously. The noise is back. "Please. It's not sustainable because, the way the world is, I cannot stay in a human town for much longer. The humanists are coming. Tonight, probably. And when I destroy the attackers, there will be more; children seeking revenge, friends that think they can do better, the goons that they inevitably hire. There will be more, and eventually, I will make a mistake. Might have already made a mistake, but no helping that now. I'm committed. And you can't just live in Dragon's Rest with me. There are no humans there. You will be lonely and out of place, and miserable. And you wouldn't be able to visit your parents ever again- every visit would be a terrific risk, and they would want to know where you go the rest of the year… There is no way I would wish to do that to you. Now, I'm no idiot. If this was one of your paranormal romance novels, this is where I would leave you forever- or try to, I suppose- but I'm not an idiot. There are solutions to this. Our relationship is unsustainable given the state of the world? Very well, I'll change the world for you. I shall never leave you my darling- unless of course you want me to?"

Anna shakes her head quickly and hugs her ring to her chest.

"I thought not," Elsa continues. "So I'll never leave you, but that means I'm going to need to do some things, and it's going to be dangerous, so I want you to wear that ring and stay safe. Promise me now that you will not get in my way. Promise that you won't get in the way of the humanists, when they come. Promise that you will wear that ring until it's over- you can watch from a safe distance if you like, but be careful. Promise me this, and I will be by your side for an eternity. Before you make those promises though- and I see you about to do just that- dragons take oaths very seriously. If you make those promises and break them, I will never trust you again. If you can't keep those promises, don't make them. I'll change my plans. I'll throw this briefcase in the ocean, and I'll stay with you until the humanists eventually get me. Or we'll run to my race's hidden city of you prefer, and try to make it work."

"I promise," Anna says after a moment. "All of that. I promise. Do what you need to Elsa. I'm not going to get in your way. If you think that… whatever's in that briefcase… if you think that's best for us, I trust you. I'll wear this ring, and I won't get in your way, and I won't do anything stupid. I promise. Elsa, I promise."

"Thank you Anna," Elsa says quietly. The noise has stopped again. "Anna, one more thing. Some people are going to die tonight. I'm going to kill them. It will be horrible, and I will kill them. I shan't eat them, because I promised you. I said 'I will not eat people,' and I won't, but I will kill those people. If you watch, it will shock you. Horrify you. This day- and the night after- it will be remembered forever. Just… Don't judge me too harshly? Please?"

"Elsa," Anna says carefully. There are tears in her eyes, but Elsa can't tell if she's happy or… otherwise. "There is nothing you can do that will make me stop loving you. I trust you. I trust that whatever you're about to do, it's the best you could. Do what you need to do."

Elsa nods firmly, then reaches across the intervening space, takes Anna's hands. She squeezes gently. Leans in slowly. Closes her big, blue, reptilian eyes. They look so much more familiar now to Anna than human eyes. She misses Elsa's eyes, but only for a moment, then Elsa's cool lips are brushing hers. She gasps softly, leans into the kiss. Elsa is clumsy, unpracticed. She doesn't have instinct to guide her like Anna's past lovers, or thousands of hours of pornography, or libraries of romantic novels, but she _is_ earnest, and she follows Anna's lead. And then she's pulling away, and Anna leans after her, desperate to deepen the kiss, but Elsa disengages, retreats to her own chair.

"Breath, Anna," Elsa says softly. Oh right. Anna takes one unsteady breath.

"Elsa," Anna pants. "I… Goddamn I love you."

"I'm… Not sure dragons can love Anna," Elsa says. "I don't think… Biologically, I don't think there's any reason for… I don't know what love is, but I feel a very great deal of affection for you, and I can not imagine life without you."

"That means more to me than I know how to put into words," Anna smiles lovingly. Elsa blinks abruptly.

"Uhsovang," she says softly. "I expected you earlier."

"My queen," the man says. He takes a seat across from them. His suit is as immaculate as Anna remembers, his hair is still pulled back in that narrow blond braid. He removes his dark-tinted sunglasses and pockets them. His eyes are an unnerving, slitted, maroon. Anna swallows convulsively.

"Uh, hi," she says. "Um, an-dragon. Or is it an-secret-spy-dragon… I'm not making any sense. Sorry."

"Not at all," the dragon says politely- there's that too smooth politician's voice. Anna wonders if there are any dragons in human politics. They'd certainly be good at it.

"Of course there are," the dragon says with a slight, not entirely nice but entirely polite smile.

"Oh." Anna says smalley, wonders if the odd dragon can read her mind.

"I can," he says simply. That smile stays glued to his face. "So can her majesty, if she chooses, and if you're not defending against it. Your mind… Such an… open book. Is that the euphemism?"

"Uhsovang," Elsa snaps. She locks eyes with him. Doesn't blink. After a moment, he does, long and slow, with an odd sort of half bow. Anna gets the sense he would be showing his neck, if he were in his true form. "I could," Elsa continues. She sounds almost sheepish. "Except that it would be an unconscionable violation of her privacy, that it requires close proximity and eye contact, and that it gives you only the surface thoughts, and those can be misleading."

"My apologies, my queen," he says quickly. Looks close to tears, if dragons could cry. Anna is stunned by his devotion. "It will never happen again."

"I shall not hold it against you," Elsa says softly. Almost uncomfortably, and Anna remembers that she doesn't want to be queen.

"My queen." He says, then, a moment later, "your majesty, you're aware that your human, carrying box- the Society for the Protection of Human Rights- they'll notice it, if they haven't already. The magic I've spread in this town can't hide it. The enchantments you've worked are too strong."

"I'm aware." Elsa's voice is cold, but not unkind. "I have a plan. You mustn't interfere. I need them to listen to me, for this to work, and they will not if I am guarded. Guard my Anna, but do not interfere with my plans."

"My queen?" Uhsovang sounds uncertain.

"If you…" Elsa sighs. A long, tired, sound. "If you follow these orders, I'll return. Return of the Queen," she smiles wryly. "I'll rule over our race again. I'll do my best."

"Of course," Uhsovang says fervently. "My queen, I swear to you, I shan't interfere. None of my construct-soldiers shall interfere. I shall protect your mate with my life."

"Now," Elsa says grimly. She stands, a fluid, predatory, motion. "Ek lgohganthsa ahtheesthanssin." She smiles at Anna. Our joke, she seems to say, between us, only.

"Lgohganthlgagan," Uhsovang says. He closes his eyes briefly. Elsa clicks wryly. Anna doesn't know how she can tell, but it's not the same happy, mirthful, clicks she gave before. "Ek leurdrga ahsaan-Elshavinin-iss."

Elsa flashes Anna an entirely too bright smile, picks up her briefcase. "Remember Anna," she says cheerfully. "Vodka Jesus." And then she's gone, striding purposefully through the door.

"Hot chocolate and mocha?" The barista calls.

* * *

Elsa strides purposefully down the street, and casts a quick detection spell. Good. She's being followed, by more than she expected. It doesn't matter; she's already wrapped herself in her magical protections, and she's wearing her armor. It weighs heavy on her hidden wings, tugs oddly around her joints, and ruffles her scales. She hates her armor. It feels subtlety wrong. Most dragons feel the same way, but wearing her armor, and wrapped in a protective cocoon of her enchantments, she's the closest to indestructible that anything can be. She could probably fly _through_ a battleship without any real problems. Do the humans even still use battleships, she wonders. It's funny, the thoughts that go through your head right before a fight.

She turns into an alley. It's between an abandoned warehouse, and a movie theater slated for destruction. If it turns into a fight, this is as far as she can believably get from innocents. Suddenly, she's her true form again, all twelve feet of glittering silver, seamless, armor, and razor sharp carbon scythe-spines.

"I know you're there," she says. "Hello? I want to help."

"Help?" The man- maybe woman- melts from the shadows. It's hard to tell. She can't go by the chest guide Anna had explained, can't see anything through the humanist's long, grey, flame-retardant coat and heavy ceramic body armor. They've come a long way since her mother. "How help?" They're speaking English.

"I'm afraid," Elsa says. "Of you people. I don't want to die. You killed my mother, and she was so much bigger than me, I'm so afraid. Just, please don't kill me. I'll…" She swallows. "I'll betray my race, I don't care any more, I just don't want to die. I'll tell you where everyone is, just please don't kill me. I know you were closing in on me, I couldn't take it any more. I… I just decided. I'll tell you anything, just please let me live."

"They shall whisper lies and speak falsehoods," the man- woman?- says. "And they shall walk amongst you in sheep's clothing. What's in the case, demon?"

"Oh this?" Elsa gives a nervous laugh. "Stole as much magic as I could carry before I left. Not. Um. Not useable by humans. It wouldn't help you. Please don't take it."

The funny thing about thinking, is that your opponent can always refuse. You sit down to a chess game with them, wonder what opening moves they'll use, how they'll respond to your own moves. You can plot the whole game out before it starts, if you're clever enough, but it's all for nothing, if your opponent flips the table.

You can know that your opponents are glory seeking hotheads, all too happy to think that _they_ are badass enough to terrify a magical, armored, prehistoric superpredator. They wouldn't believe that she doesn't want to fight- that she is being courted by a human, or generally means well, but they would believe that she's frightened. You can know your opponents are religious maniacs, all too happy to see you as a monster, as something their religion wants them to hate, justifies their actions. They wouldn't believe that she means well either, that she doesn't hurt anything that she doesn't absolutely have to, that she isn't allied with any sort of daemonic power. But they are all too happy to believe that she's serving herself, that she has no loyalty, no integrity. You can know your enemies inside and out, and if you do, you can plan accordingly. You can create the perfect lies. You can be perfectly believable. But it doesn't matter if they won't hear you.

There's a dull rattling, chinking, automatic sound, and a Elsa dimly feels the pattering impact of dozens of bullets on her armored wings. The bullets skip and splash off the carbon nanomesh top layer, what's left of the force dissipates in the thin impact gel. They are wholly ineffectual, but they passed through her eldritch barriers. Somehow, the humanists have figured out how to bypass her magical protections. No matter- her scales are hard, and her armor inviolable. Elsa had tried to do this peacefully, tried to keep this from turning into a fight that clueless innocents could wander into, but if the humanists want a fight, well, she _is_ a dragon. Her teeth are sharp, and her claws are long. Thanvdravn- I am a weapon.

The humanists are spilling from every shadow and cranny. There must be hundreds of them, all dressed identically in their flame resistant coats and ceramic plates. She lashes out at the nearest. The gleaming silver barbs on the leading edge of her wing catch him under his rib cage, their edges only a single molecule thick, and magically reinforced. His armor doesn't save him- she doesn't even notice it. The force of the impact lifts him from his feet and catapults him into the nearby brick wall. He leaves behind a sickening crunch, and a long red smear.

Elsa's heads up display is alive with information, flicking through the magical eyes studding her silvery second skin at the speed of thought. Somewhere, distant, there is the crack of a high powered rifle, and an annoying tap, and one of the eyes is gone, but that's why there's redundancy. She hisses, and prowls toward the loose ring of hunters, a sublime, confident, hunter. In one of the buildings, the warehouse, she hears a low whine, but pays it no mind. It's just one of the humans' ineffectual machines, and she's _angry_. These are the people that threaten her species. Friends, lovers, and children, of the monsters that murdered her mother. How _dare_ they raise their dirty mammalian hands to her?

A loud crack splits the air. A line of light momentarily connects her to the warehouse as the very air is set ablaze. A rail gun, Elsa realizes belatedly. Not so invulnerable. She wonders idly where the pain is, as her HUD blazes crimson warnings at her. Worrying words, like "armor breach," and "hydrostatic shock." Worse words, like "blood pressure dropping," and "multiple cardiac failure."

Elsa feels her hearts stuttering with the strain, sees the dark puddle at her feet growing alarmingly fast. Feels also the strength fleeing her mighty limbs. I'm sorry Anna, she thinks as she collapses.

* * *

 **AN: Well, this chapter gave me way more trouble than is reasonable. I'm still not entirely happy with it, but I'm about to go on vacation where I won't be able to upload stuff, and I didn't want to make you all wait another week for it.**

 **Also, Woooo! almost 90 followers! I love you people! smiley face stickers for all of you! A thousand thanks also to those of you that review consistently. You all are how I get better. You know who you are. Give yourselves a pat on the back from me (but not too hard of one; don't hurt yourself)**

 **Also also, I did a bit of editing to the first chapter (which was lacking somewhat in quality compared to the rest of the story) I hope to go back an do a few more minor edits to chapters 2 and 3. Just a heads up, in case you care.**


	16. Chapter 16

Elsa's vision is grey, her limbs are still. The humanists are creeping closer, and there is not a single thing she can do about it. But then she feels a tickling, tingling, sensation, as the glittering silver fibers of her armor writhe and knit together again. "Catastrophic damage detected," her armor informs her. "Initiating repair procedures. Armor integrity restored."

There are a half dozen minor healing spells stored in the armor. It discharges one, and ugly purple scar tissue grows over her great wound. It doesn't do anything to stop the internal bleeding, or the organ damage, or to repair the shredded muscles, or drain the blood from her punctured lungs, but it does stop the blood loss. The armor discharges a massive shot of adrenaline directly into her bloodstream, and Elsa is back on her feet. "Seek medical attention," the armor demands, but she ignores it.

Around her stand maybe a score of soldiers- not humanists. Dressed all in black. Tough, pocket covered pants, heavy boots, Kevlar armor, none of the long, flame-resistant coats the humanists wear. There is an odd "chink-chink-chink-chink" sound as one of the soldiers fires their weapon, and a humanist pitches over backwards, clutching his- her?- throat.

"Target secured," one of the men says. Elsa guesses he's speaking into some kind of communications device. "Enemy artillery present. Requesting permission to go loud?"

The dragon ignores these newcomers; there is a threat, and her decades-dormant instinct kicks in. She leaps, pounces like a cat, clear through the warehouse wall. The old bricks crumble before her, even before she hits- her magical protections are still active, for all the good they do against the humanists' weapons. The railgun is charging again- Elsa can hear it's dull whine- but it's too late. The dragon is upon the machine like a blizzard of silver spines. She tears away everything that looks important and hurls it around the abandoned warehouse. The gun's crew are there, cowering behind a rotting mound of crates, so she kills them too. A quick, brutal, lash of her tail.

"Internal hemorrhage," Elsa's armor says insistently. "Organ failure imminent. Blood pressure low. Seek medical attention." But then the humanists are back, spilling into the warehouse like an insistent swarm of insects. The rattle and pop of their obnoxiously effective weapons echoes alarmingly in the cavernous room, another of her armor's magical eyes shatters, and she's on them again. Humanists in front- crush. Behind- a slash of her tail. To the side- she takes their legs off with a brutal sweep of her wing. Black armor- wait, spare the unknown. More humanists on the catwalk- she leaps, flaps her wings once, and tears it down.

It's a red haze. A sort of trance, where nothing matters. Not time, not pain, not the insistent warnings from her armor. Eventually- she doesn't know how long- the haze passes. She's lying in the movie theater, sprawled awkwardly across the seats. "Internal hemorrhage," the armor begins again, but she mutes it with a flick of her vast conscious. Most of the armor's eyes are ruined, but a few still work, and she looks around cautiously. The old theater is a charnel house. Bits of humanists litter the aisles, the seats, the screen. Elsa is relieved not to see any innocents. The mysterious, black-armored, soldiers stand around her. One of them, the leader she guesses, leans against the doorframe, helmet and mask removed. There's a cigarette in his mouth, but it's unlit. One of the others is speaking into a device.

"All hostiles eliminated," he says. "Target appears to be in critical condition. Unknown wounds…" Elsa tries to stand, but a bolt of electric agony shoots through her body. She stumbles, slides down a row, and passes out from the pain.

She wakes again. The soldiers have barely moved. One of them has a pack with a red cross on it, is tugging uncertainly at Elsa's armor. She doesn't understand, but doesn't kill him.

Elsa blinks, and tilts her head. She tries to cast a spell- something to repair her mangled body, but the pain steals her concentration, and the spell fizzles and fails.

"Ek Elshavn," she says. The human mutters something. It sounds like English, but she can't muster the attention to translate it. Elsa flicks her tail uncertainly.

"Ah doo nawt sspeec yer lahng-ooh-ahge." The leader says. "Doo yoo sspeec eenglish?"

Elsa blinks again. It takes her a few minutes to remember the language. "Yes," she growls. "If you try to stop me, I will hurt you."

Elsa grits her fangs, braces herself against the oncoming pain, and stands unsteadily.

"You're hurt," the closest warrior says- the one with the pack and the stupid red plus. "Miss, um, dragon. How can we help?"

Elsa ignores him, stumbles awkwardly, and crashes through the wall. She tries to call for help, but her communication device is missing. Right. She gave it away. Who? Anna! Of course! She gave it to Anna. Poor Anna, courting such a foolish, over confident, young dragon.

* * *

Marshmallow sighs. "No ma'am," he says. He rubs his eyes tiredly; the harsh white fluorescents bother him after a long night. Always do. "Your cat is not to be dying," he silently curses the woman. The woman and her ornery little cat. "He was being… Sharp." He rubs one of his plethora of scratches. Why do none of these American tourists ever bother to learn the language? And why do they all bring their pets?

"What was wrong with him?" There woman demands. She tugs on the hem of her unnecessarily expensive parka, checks the zipper. Makes sure it's low enough. "You're sure he's going to live?"

"Ma'am," Marshmallow closes his eyes for a moment. "Your cat he was…" The door chimes, distracts him. Not nearly so much as the slender silver snout that pokes through. The plate glass wall disintegrates as the creature staggers into the waiting room- almost crashes into a man with a very distressed goose. The goose honks indignantly.

Elsa collapses heavily, wings cocked at an unnatural angle, trapped beneath her. Her tail lashes viciously, and assassinates a street lamp. Her long, spined, head flops uncertainly.

"Hi marshmallow," she rasps. "So this is where you work?"

"Um," Marshmallow squeaks. It's an odd sound, coming from such a big man. The man with the goose gathers up his pet and runs. The cat lady too. The receptionist shrieks, and throws the computer at the dragon. It doesn't quite hit her. Skates off of something invisible in the air. Marshmallow swallows his fear, and wonders if it's some kind of half-magical racial trait like in D&D. "Hi," he says awkwardly. "You are being Elsa, hmm?"

"Yessss," the silvery shape hisses.

"Hmm." Marshmallow nods thoughtfully. "Silver dragons are being good aligned, yes? What is being your challenge rating?"

The dragon shivers, and the armor splits along the top like a chrysalis. "I'm…" Elsa clicks weakly. "I'm in a bad way." Blood streaks her snowy hide, like the pelt of a tiger.

"Ah." Marshmallow nods sagely, and scoops up his bag- he keeps his equipment together, ready to travel, in case of emergencies. It's a habit he picked up in the army. "Well, Marshmallow was right, yes? When I was thinking this Elsa girl, she is not human? And look! This Elsa girl is a dragon! Of course our Anna would find herself a nice dragon girl, but look! Our dragon Elsa got herself hurt! And now I'm wondering how?" He tugs gently at the bloodied silver edge of her armor, she gives a loud, pained, hiss, shies away as much as she can, sprawled across the cramped waiting room.

Marshmallow jumps back reflexively, mammal instincts temporarily trump Hippocratic oaths. He catches sight of the black clad soldiers lurking outside, and discreetly fishes his phone from his pocket. Sends a few quick texts to his army friends. He drops the phone back in his pocket and pulls on a pair of sterile gloves. "Hmm," he says. "Let us take a look, yes?"

He tugs again at the fasten of the battered armor, and Elsa lets out a terrific growl. Marshmallow glares down at her.

"Ahsarin," Elsa grumbles, and her scaled lips pull back in a draconic grimace. She heaves her bleeding bulk from the damaged husk of her armor like a butterfly from its chrysalis.

"There's be a good dragon," Marshmallow says approvingly, and approaches her. "Wow. You are being, wow. I would…" He swallows nervously, then continues in Norwegian. "It is not a good idea to risk misunderstanding in medicine. How well do you know Norwegian?"

"I," Elsa gasps as his gloved hands probe her reopened wound. "I know it as well as Eng… I will rend you limb from limb, mortal!" She snarls.

"Sorry," Marshmallow says calmly. "I do not know your weight, or your species' metabolism. For that matter, I have no idea how anesthesia would affect you, and this seems like a poor time to find out, yes?"

"I will destroy you," Elsa grumbles. Marshmallow takes that as affirmative.

"So," Marshmallow says, stringing up a bag clear bag of fluid and an IV. "Why did they do this? Where they after your triple standard treasure?"

"Why, ow!" Elsa snarles. "What is this thing with you and Anna, relating everything back to D&D?"

They talk like this for a while- Marshmallow doesn't know how long- him asking inane questions, she tersely snarling out her replies. It can't be long; his army friends owe him, and they're not too far away. Soon, three armored vehicles screech to a stop near the ruined front of the clinic.

The soldiers disembark casually but quickly. They aren't technically on duty, so they wear civilian clothes, but they walk with the unmistakable stiff lassitude of a soldier, and they carry their weapons.

"Trouble at the clinic," Marshmallow had texted, and each of them owes their life to him. Of course they came. More would have come if they had been able; medics are well liked. Especially medics in the special forces. A lot of people owe their lives to Marshmallow.

The front of the vet is smashed. Shards of glass cover the pavement like a gauzy, dewy, spiderweb. A few errant flakes of snow drift lazily from the evening sky like a flock of lethargic birds. A half dozen cars crouch in the parking lot like so many beetle carcasses. The soldiers heft their weapons nervously, and approach without speaking.

"That's far enough," a man says, standing. He wears black Kevlar and carries a rifle- something semiautomatic and off brand- with a long suppressor. A white patch on his breast advertises his name as "Johnson."

"Who?" One of the soldiers asks as they raise their weapons, and glance around for cover. There isn't any.

"Johnson," the man grins. He whistles, and his allies show themselves. A few dozen behind the cars, a handful on the roof. A few on the rooftops across the concrete clearing. "PMC. Sorry, but this area is off limits."

One of the soldiers pulls out his phone and calls Marshmallow. "Marsh?" He asks.

"Yeah?" Comes the reply. "Johan? You here? Oh be quiet you silly reptile this doesn't hurt."

"We're here Marsh," the soldier says after a moment. He's mildly surprised Marshmallow remembers his name. It's been a few years and they weren't that close. Until Marshmallow sat six hours with his fingers in Johan's throat. They were plenty close then. He still has the scar, but he's alive. "What's going on?" Johan motions to the other soldiers. Wait, situation unclear.

"Some people hurt a… friend of mine," Marshmallow says. He's speaking Norwegian, is more fluent in Norwegian. "Don't know why they did, but she came to me, so I'm helping her. I don't know who did it, might have been the people outside, but they've not done anything yet. I thought it would be a good idea to call you before they did try something though."

"Of course," Johan says quickly. He turns to one of the other soldiers- he doesn't know the name. "Call everyone," he whispers. "Tell them to hurry. Tell 'em to be ready for trouble."

"Oh I should hope there's no need for that," Marshmallow's voice comes from the phone's tiny speaker. "It might not be a bad idea though. See if you can get the… unknowns… to let some people through. I need a few extra hands in here and I don't trust them." The terminology is unfamiliar after so long.

"Right," Johan says quickly. "See you in a sec if all goes well." He passes the phone to whoever's to his right. "Listen here you PMC prick. Our friend's in your off limits area. He needs a few extra hands, so three of us are going in. You can let us through, or you can make this into a bloodbath, and then some of our other friends will bring a tank. Your call." He repeats himself in English after a second.

Johnson thinks for a moment, glances at his own forces. "Sure," he says after a moment. "But two of my guys go in too, and you leave your weapons here."

"Sure," Johan says, passes his rifle to the man with his phone, unholsters his sidearm and hands it over too. "I'll want all that back," he says. "Alright. Who's coming?" A dozen hands shoot up. Johan sighs and selects two at random.

"Withers, Smith," Johnson says. "Go with them. Don't let them kill the target." Wordlessly, the five warriors enter the clinic.

"Excellent!" Marshmallow says. He sounds cheerful, but there's something uncertain hiding in his tone. "You. In the black? Hold this light please."

The waiting room is a wreck. The lights are on and steady, but the floor is deeply gouged, and littered with shards of glass. In the corner, as if discarded thoughtlessly, lies the bloody husk of something flexible and silvery. Marshmallow beckons, encouraging but hurried, and they follow him through the scarred door frame and around the corner. The soldiers see a great horned head, a massive leathery wing, a scaled side, rising and falling in quick little pants. Withers and Smith aren't affected, or if they are, they don't show it- they've seen her before, after all. They know what to expect. Johan and his allies hesitate. One of them- Johan thinks his name is Tomas- grimaces, and clenches his fist. Johan wants to run, to fight, to… anything but stand here and wait to be eaten, but no. This must be Marshmallow's hurt friend.

"She's… Not exactly human," Marshmallow shrugs apologetically. "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd believe me…"

"I wouldn't," one of the soldiers mumbles. Dogs are yapping in their kennels, but it's quiet. Almost like they are afraid of annoying the dragon.

"I'm," Marshmallow shrugs helplessly. "She has six hearts, I'm a little… ahem."

"What's her challenge rating?" Johan asks. "Triple standard loot?"

"Why does every single human ask that?" The dragon grumbles.

* * *

Alan Wesselton's limousine is glossy black and unmarked. The interior is all velvet, white and well lit. The mini bar is well stocked, and there is an impressive flat screen television mounted onto the wall that separates driver from passenger. Alan has talked to some of the most powerful men and women in the world through that television. But luxurious as the limousine's interior may be, that is not why the lord Wesselton uses it. The windows are three inches thick and made of cut Quartz panes. The chassis covers two layers of sloped steel plating. The engine was originally made for a military stealth helicopter- powerful, and whisper quiet. When the doors are closed, the limousine is hermetically sealed. It has dozens of filters and enough oxygen reserves for the passengers to breathe freely for hours. An identical car, owned by a high level Russian military attaché in Jordan allegedly survived a strike from a long range missile with only minor damage to the chassis. Alan Wesselton is a very paranoid man.

It's snowing in Jotunheimen. Not a blizzard, exactly, but a thick curtain that's growing thicker with every passing moment. There are soldiers clustered around his destination- actual Norwegian army personnel, it looks like. None of them try to stop him, though a few heft their weapons aggressively. The limousine stops in front of the clinic with a low, almost menacing, purr. Alex, chief of police in this tiny town- that hadn't taken too large of a bribe- steps out and opens the door for him. He gets a very specific sort of enjoyment from seeing good investments play out.

Alan Wesselton stands slowly, wrinkled hand braced on the almost unneeded cane. Almost unneeded, not quite entirely superfluous. He doesn't thank the driver, doesn't even remember his name, but then, he is the founder and owner of one of the wealthiest corporations in the world. His time is not well spent remembering the names of each of his many servants.

His shiny black shoes press dark crescents into the fresh snowfall- oxfords, of course. He straightens his tie, and the driver quickly opens an umbrella. Must be new.

"Sir," says one of the hired guns. Johnson, maybe? Ah yes. Name tag. Johnson. "Target secured. It got hurt in the firefight, but not from us. It's in there sir. The vet says it's stable, but, well, we don't really know all that much about it."

"Very good, mister Johnson," Wesselton says. His voice is high and reedy. He steps around the mercenary and enters the clinic.

Two more of his mercenaries sit in the waiting room, chatting with a handful of soldiers.

"...with a high powered rifle," one of the mercenaries is saying. "Fucker thought he was Hitler. You shoulda seen his… Sir!" The mercenaries stand abruptly.

"Well done," Alan says. He's speaking to the police chief beside him as much as the mercenaries. "Very well done. Now, pardon my tenseness, but, where's my dragon?"

"Through that door sir," one of the mercenaries says. "On the left sir."

"Excellent," Wesselton replies quickly. There's something avaricious gleaming in his eyes. "Thank you. Follow me please." He eyes the bloodied mound of armor- ah how he remembers that type of armor. He lets his hopes rise for the first time since he got the call.

The vet stops them at the door. He's a large man, and clean. Whatever blood there was in his triage, he's washed it away. The dragon must be stable enough that leaving it alone a while is no great risk, but there are dark bags under his eyes. Not stable enough for the vet to rest yet then.

"You cannot going in there," the vet says. "The dragon, she is resting. Very badly hurt, I am thinking. She is needing her rest."

Ah. So it's a female. Fascinating. "Sir," Alan says coldly. Colder than the snowstorm outside. He raps his cane against the linoleum floor. "I have waited literal lifetimes to find a dragon. They are very very good at hiding, mind you. And I have no intention of letting this one slip through my fingers. If I lose her, I will never find her again, and that is _unacceptable_."

"Marshmallow," the vet says. "Call me Marshmallow."

"Marshmallow?" Wesselton adjusts his tie again. "How quaint. Move aside, or I shall have my men move you."

"Your eyes, they are greedy eyes," Marshmallow says, but he steps aside. "Keeping it quick, yes? The dragon, she does need her rest."

"I will bear that in mind," Alan snaps, and enters the room. The dragon isn't as big as he expected, only maybe a dozen feet long, from snout to tail. She's white- he was expecting red, but it doesn't matter much, he supposes. Thick gauze bandages cocoon her chest, but he doesn't see any obvious wounds. She's curled in on herself like a sleeping cat, but the wickedly barbed tip of her tail raps against the linoleum like a metronome, and one clear blue eye is open and staring. Wesselton swallows. He feels an urge to run that he didn't expect. Something about her sets his heart pounding, tells him that he's about to die. She's got a briefcase, he notices abruptly. That one little mundane detail helps with the terror he feels.

The dragon's lip pulls back slowly, reveals a line of terrifying fangs. There's a deep rumble, like an avalanche. A growl, Alan realizes. He's about to die. He's certain of it. Alex is shaking. She's taken two steps back. Is hiding behind his mercenaries.

"Elsa," the police chief says quickly. "I…"

"You do not get to speak," the dragon rumbles. Alex gives a tiny squeak of terror, but stops talking. "You," that cold, reptilian gaze snaps back to Alan. He adjusts his tie again. "I've smelled you before. Decades ago. When I was avenging my mother."

"Yes," Wesselton says. "Um. Maybe. Probably? My uncle. And. Um, I'm so very very sorry. For what he did, I'm so sorry."

"No," the dragon- Elsa?- growls. "Do not lie to me. I hear your fragile little mortal heart tap-tap-tap" she raps one ivory claw against the floor to demonstrate. It leaves a few shallow divots. "You cannot lie to me. Do not try."

"I…" Alan adjusts his tie again. "Of course. I'm sorry. It won't happen again. Um. My uncle. He helped kill… your mother, I guess… He was truly sorry, did you know?"

"Yes," Elsa says simply. Alan is very good at figuring out what people are thinking, he has to be, but he has no idea what thoughts are flitting through the dragon's alien mind.

"I see," Alan frowns. "Um. Well…"

"Why are you here?" Elsa demands abruptly. "Why you? Why your warriors? What is your goal here? What do you want?"

"I heard the Society for the Protection of Human Rights had found you," Alan lies well. There isn't a human alive that could see through his deception. "I… Know what they do to your kind, and well, I just couldn't let that happen. I…"

"I distinctly remember telling you not to lie to me," Elsa says. Her voice is quiet, and calm. Smooth, like the surface of a pond, but smoke spills from her jaws.

* * *

 **AN: well, this chapter took longer than expected as well, but I guess that's becoming the refrain of this story...**

 **Anyway, continued thanks to everyone that has followed/favorited/reviewed. you people are wonderful.**


	17. Chapter 17

The limousine stops in front of the hunting lodge. It's a massive, sprawling fortress, built into the side of a mountain in the far northern reaches of Norway. It's an old building- a converted monastery built back when Viking raids were a serious threat. It's changed since then, of course. Expanded, to hold the myriad members of the Society for the Protection of Human Rights. Reinforced, to survive a dragon attack- in theory, anyway; no dragon has ever found this place.

The driver exits the limousine, and opens the door. Alan Wesselton steps out, one hand pressing heavily on his cane, the other holding a plain brown leather briefcase. He walks slowly across the broad snowy courtyard. The door is tall but narrow, and bound with wrought iron. It opens theatrically for him.

"Ah," a man is standing in the dark atrium. He wears a deep green doublet and cream leggings. "Young mister Wesselton. Joining us at last?"

"Yes," Alan says. "I'm sorry, I don't recall having met you before?"

"Herman Carloff," the man replies. "Come in, come in." He leads Alan through ancient, twisting halls lot sporadically with torches. They employ the most advanced weapons they can get their hands on. The wealth of the dragons they have slain is near bottomless; there are very few weapons that they cannot acquire. But humans fear change and many of the humanists are very very ancient. There is no electricity- this is how we've always done things, those backwards fools. Alan hides his disdain well.

"So," Herman says. He takes a seat. The room they've come to is a sitting room of sorts- there are a handful of plush armchairs arranged around a table, and a pair of wide dragon pelts hung from the walls. "What changed your mind? As heir to your uncle, we've long offered you a place at out table. What has changed?"

"I wanted to bring down one of those beasts myself," Alan says. "I felt that I hadn't earned that place with you. I was riding on my uncle's glories. I wanted to earn my own place."

"Good man!" Herman applauds. A servant enters, carrying a broad golden tray. She lays out a pair of great golden goblets and fills them with wine from an ornate pitcher. "You know, I believe these came from the same beast you uncle helped slay," Herman laughs.

The visit drags on. The hours feel like years. Wesselton meets hundreds of humanists and exchanges pleasantries with them all. He laughs, and jokes, and tells how he slew the mighty dragon maybe a hundred times. Finally, he manages to excuse himself, and makes his way back to his limousine. The humanists send an agent to follow him. Of course they did. His visit was suspicious, at best.

Once the car has rounded the mountain, and the ancient hunting lodge gone from sight, Alan instructs the driver to stop and pulls a coin from his pocket. Odd, he thinks, that a simple American golden dollar could be the most valuable item in his possession. He flips it, almost casually, though he's only done this once before, and reality splits in front of the car.

"Drive through please," he says through the limousine's internal intercom and the driver obeys. He might need a raise, Wesselton realizes. Wesselton had left the briefcase, as instructed. No one noticed. Or if they did, they thought it an accident.

* * *

"...unconfirmed reports of a nuclear detonation in northern Norway. We'll keep you informed as we know more. This is Channel Seven News, your source of…"

"...geologists report a magnitude eight point three earthquake, originating in northern…"

"...state of emergency declared in…"

"...unconfirmed reports of military deployment in Jotunheimen, Norway. This may be linked to the blast, it may be linked to a mass murder, we just… Jesus. We don't know yet. Now... to our reporter on scene, what've you got for us Gretel?"

"I saw it. Big scaly bastard. No, I swear, really. Big fucking dragon, just walking down the street."

"...emergency meeting of the United Nations to discuss…"

"...Norwegian government confirms that the blast was not nuclear, but states that there _is_ a large amount of radiation in the area. Citizens are advised to stay in their homes and…"

"...no one has claimed responsibility for the attack yet…"

"...no confirmed casualties from the blast…"

"We're getting reports of… is this a joke? Really? Um. Sorry about that folks, we're getting reports of large scaled beasts in… This isn't a joke? Really? Large scaled beast in Jotunheimen, Norway. No word yet on whether or not it's linked to the massacre…"

"...near disaster as technicians scramble to remove automatic retaliation protocols from nuclear warheads all across Russia. The Russian president had this to say…"

* * *

"So," Uhsovang says. His long, human, fingers are steepled in front of his very reptilian red eyes. Anna shudders.

"So," she replies as cheerfully as she can manage.

"You have been successful in your courtship of a dragon." He doesn't blink. Thinking about it makes Anna's eyes itch, but she resolves not to give him the satisfaction of watching her blink first. "Congratulations." He says it like an insult. "You have acquired the most unique mate. What now?"

"I…" Anna splutters. "What? She's not my mate!"

"Of course she is, foolish little monkey thing." Uhsovang's voice has the same rasping accent as Elsa's but none of the kindness. "In draconic culture, any gift of the magnitude of that ring is a proposal. Is that the human word? And you accepted it. Of course you're mated. When I said to her majesty, 'I shall protect your mate,' her majesty did not correct me."

"I mean…" Anna splutters. "I'd totally be ok with that, but… She was distracted. I'm sure she didn't mean… It was a birthday gift!"

"Of course," Uhsovang says smoothly.

"Well, jokes on you because that would be great with me," Anna huffs.

"I course it would," Uhsovang makes that draconic clicking noise. "You were the one pursuing her. Of course you would be happy with your success."

"You know what?" Anna snarls, and jabs him in the chest. He blinks slowly. "I'm going to talk to my Elsa when she gets back, and if she says we're not mated, I'm going to propose myself!"

"Where you not the queen-consort, that would have been your death," Uhsovang says mildly.

Anna musters a reply, something really vicious, something that will put this jerk in his place, but she's interrupted by a titanic flash of light. Through the window, over the mountains to the north; it's far away- Anna doesn't know how far- but it lights the night sky like day, blazes brighter for a moment, and then begins to slowly fade. Anna blinks dumbly through the window for a moment, and then the sound catches up with the light. There's a titanic "FWOOOOM!" And the window rattles. Anna winces. The ground shakes. Coffee shop patrons scream and dive pointlessly under their tables, or else stand, and stare numbly out the window, or run outside and mill about aimlessly. Cheap white plates fall, the sound of ceramic shattering on tile is drowned out by the deep rumble of the earth's distress.

The sky has a halo, Anna notices. A great ring of white over the still fading light as the atmosphere itself is pushed away. The sky within is a deep, moving, midnight blue. The stars are faintly visible, even with the still-burning light. It's pretty, Anna thinks, but she knows who's responsible, and that terrifies her. "Oh my poor Elsa," she whispers. Her phone rings.

Nearly seven minutes later, the displaced atmosphere rushes back to fill the unnatural void and there is another titanic thunderclap as it crashes together in the epicenter. Not so loud as the first, but still clearly audible, even this far away.

That was the day that humans remembered the most vital lesson of their ancestors; something they had long forgotten. Something they never should have forgotten. You do not anger a dragon.

* * *

 **AN: bonus points to people who figure out what Elsa did. you should have all of the available information, though it may take some creative thinking to get it all to fit together.**

 **so, last chapter i lost followers, rather than gained, and i have no idea why? i confess that this was a little discouraging to me, (disproportionately so... i can be a bit of a child) but rest assured, despite my disappointment, i shall finish this story. at least the first act. there are plans for two more "acts" one of which will deal with how humanity reacts to dragons, the other being a suitable conclusion. we'll see how i feel when it comes time for those, but i will absolutely finish act 1 at least.**


	18. Chapter 18

The blast began small; just a simple brown briefcase. The arcane machinery within whirled and clattered its intricate dance. It detected that there were no more friendlies in the area- a whole new meaning to "smart bomb," and opened a portal to the heart of the sun. A small one- only a foot across.

If anyone had been watching the briefcase at the moment of the blast- and been possessed of preternaturally swift cognition- they might have seen a tiny tongue of stellar plasma licking out through the hard leather of the briefcase. Too swift to char, too fast even for the radiating heat to set the floor ablaze. That tongue would have grown, expanded. The hunting lodge would have been ripped stone from stone, and cast up into the sky, before, probably, the wood burned even. It would have been vaporized before it landed though; many of the elements in the stone would begin fusing, the hydrogen and helium in the air would sustain the reaction, superheated by the fusing beryllium transplanted from the heart of the star, and compressed by the rapidly expanding shockwave. Though the seller matter transported was minuscule- the machinery sustaining the portal was annihilated before, even the rest of the hunting lodge- the fusible material in the air and stone sustained the heat and light. By this point, the mountain, on which the hunting lodge once crouched, would have simply ceased to exist- melted, and hurled against its surrounding brothers. As the blast expanded, the atmosphere parted, carried away by the inertia of the explosion, fusing atoms setting the countryside alight. Much of the material would be thrown into orbit, some of it is even lost entirely, as the titanic forces hurl the particles out of the planet's gravity well.

The diameter grew rapidly, but with every inch that it gained, the matter cooled, and spread out. Sure, the front of the shock wave compressed the air and set it ablaze, but it was cooling, and the self-sustaining reaction slowed, then stopped entire. The explosion lost force. Eventually, the pull of the near-vacuum behind overcame the expansion, and it collapsed back in on itself.

To say that anything properly happened in order, though, would be misleading. The internal matter of a star is under such colossal pressure, that faced with relative vacuum of earth, it rushed through in the shortest unit of time possible, and the hunting lodge was gone in the next. True, the blast lasted several minutes, but that was due more to the sheer scope of the destruction than anything else. Hundreds of years later, the scar still marrs the surface of the earth, and historians discussing the day that the dragons reminded humanity of their existence still argue about the precise events at the heart of the blast.

* * *

"Listen here buddy," Anna snarls like a dragon. Uhsovang lurks at her side like a viper, coiled to strike. "Elsa is in there, and you're between me, and Elsa."

"Ma'am," the soldier says sternly. He glances around, at the barricades, and reporters, and crowds. He sighs. "Who's in there?"

"Elsa," Anna gives her best impression of her mother's stern glare. The effect is undermined somewhat by her short stature. "You know, the dragoooon?"

"Ma'am, if everyone who claimed to know the dragon were telling the truth, it would be close personal friends with half of Norway." The soldier squares his shoulders, towers over the little redhead. "This is a restricted area. No civilians allowed."

Anna opens her mouth to reply, but the crowd's roar cuts her off. The barista next to her stumbles, presses uncomfortably against her shoulder as the crowd shifts. A pair of huge beige tanks roll through- slowly, thick as the crowd is. The barricade opens just long enough to admit the vehicles, and soldiers push back against the press of the crowds.

"Look mister," Anna says. "I didn't want to have to do this, but…" She waves a small golden broach in front of the soldier.

"What do you think you're going to… A necklace?" The soldier frowns, but Anna is already pressing the horizontal bar rune that Elsa showed her. The "an."

She holds the device to her ear, and feels very foolish when she doesn't hear anything. No ringtone, no raspy draconic voice, nothing. "Um," Anna says. "Uh. Hi? Um. My name is Anna? My… girlfriend? Um. Mate? Uh. Elsa? The dragon queen? Uh. Elshavn, I guess? Wait, accusative, right? Elshin? No, Elshassin? Yeah. Um Elshassin. I don't use the feminine accusative all that often." The soldier looks amused, and impatient. Anna flushes scarlet, swallows nervously. The dragon behind her is laughing, and she feels like a fool. She could have asked him. Hell, Elsa gave her a ring of invisibility; what better time to use it than sneaking into somewhere?

"I'm, uh, rambling I guess," she mutters. "I'll hang up now. Sorry."

"Whhhhat isss it yoo need hhelf vif?" The voice comes from the golden device, more a long, accented hiss than actual language.

"I'm um." Anna swallows again. "Um. I got a call? On my phone? Of course on my phone. Stupid Anna. What else would I have gotten called on? Well, this I guess? Fuck. Wait, shit! I shouldn't cuss around dragons. Um. Sorry. Um. So, Elsa is hurt, and my friend is a doctor- kindof- and she got to him, and he fixed her up, but… well, there are some people that won't let me get to her, and I'm scared, and there are soldiers, and I want to see her, and I'm worried about her, and we need help, or I do, at least, and she said to call you- or whatever- if I needed help, and I'm rambling again and I feel stupid and sorry." Anna stands there panting for a second.

"Ah uhndersahnd, we ahre ahwahrr off te situation," comes that same raspy voice again, but nothing more. Anna blinks. Glances at the device. She shakes it lightly, but still nothing.

The soldier is giving her a patronizing smile, and Anna feels her cheeks heat. Feels a lump climb her throat. She wants to find a nice dark corner somewhere to cry for a bit, but that would be letting Elsa down.

"That's the best act I've seen all day," the soldier says. A helicopter stutters overhead- military, of course. The clinic is a no-fly zone, now. "The answer is still no. Orders. Sorry."

Anna looks around wildly, looks for anything to help, and there is Uhsovang, smiling patronizingly, and pantomiming putting something on his finger- oh right! The ring! Where is… Still in its box. She puts it on.

The world looks the same; no blurring or greying out like in the movies, no giant flaming eye. The soldier is looking around, brows furrowed in confusion. "Where'd you…" He mutters.

Anna grins, and slips past. She weaves through a few soldiers, going about some task or another, but they don't notice. She bumps into a black-armored someone getting interviewed by someone in a very nice suit, and he looks around wearily, but doesn't seem to see her.

There's a tent up over the entrance of the clinic. One of those big, plastic-ey, white ones, with the air pumps, and technicians running around in hazmat suits. Anna shrugs, though there's no one to see her, and pushes through. There are a few startled exclamations, but no one catches her. Centrifuges and microscopes and all manner of arcane apparatuses clutter folding tables, and a large yellow sign says "sterile zone," but there's also an airlock, spraying people with a fine mist of chemicals that burn Anna's nose, even from a distance, and she integrates herself into the next group going through. The men and women that she enters with strip off their suits quickly, once they're through.

Anna weaves past them. The front of Marshmallow's clinic is smashed- as if a dragon stumbled through the plate glass, Anna realizes- but the glass shards have been cleared away. She follows the voices…

...and there's her Elsa. All twelve feet of snowy scales and ivory horns. There are men and women around her. Consulting each other over an x-Ray there, talking with Elsa here. An old man, rail thin and liver-spotted, with grey hair all slicked back, and a hooked beak of a nose. He speaks to her while the politicians give their press conferences, and their debates, and their filibustering, hundreds of miles away. It is amazing, the kind of efficiency one can achieve, when one has power but no bureaucracy.

"Mr. Wesselton," Elsa is saying, "you speak of trust and cooperation. An admirable goal for our two species, in spite of a long history of just the opposite. Of betrayal and violence. Tell me though, why I should expect this time to be any different? Why, when you send armed soldiers to keep track of me? Is that the correct turn of phrase?" Wesselton nods, so she goes on. "Why, when you keep council with the humanists?"

"I delivered your bomb," the old man protests. "I made sure you were safe. I sent my soldiers to protect you. I… wait, what? What about the goddamned humanists?"

"Oh?" Elsa's great, reptilian eyes blink once. Twice. "You didn't know? Your Alex? Your chief of police? She works for the humanist. Collects twin paychecks, unless I miss my guess. She told them about me, I am thinking? Ah! Listen to her heart! Pat pat pat, it says I'm right."

The police chief is pale now, and sweating too. Buxom chest heaving, she looks quickly around.

"Alex, is this true?" Wesselton asks, then sighs. "Never mind," he says. "I can see it on your face. Johnson, restrain her please. We'll see to it that she faces justice."

"Justice?" The dragon snorts. "I've seen human justice. Pay enough money, and you go free. She's your creature, and you have wealth. How do I know you won't pay that money?"

"I won't," Wesselton says quickly, then shrugs. "But then, ah, I would say the same thing if I would. Very well. Johnson, if you please?" He gestures meaningfully, and a loud report echoes through the small room. "Dispose of her please." The mercenary nods, slings the corpse over his shoulder, and leaves.

"Hmm," Elsa blinks. "I don't know how valuable she was to you. That could have been only a small sacrifice for you, but… Hmm. A good faith gesture?"

"Elsa!" Anna tears the ring from her finger. She can't bare to watch in silence any longer. "Are you hurt? Of course you are. Stupid Anna. How bad? Will you be all right?"

"I will recover, my little Anna," Elsa snorts.

"Friend of yours?" Wesselton asks, but he is ignored.

"Good. I love you, my not quite so little Elsa," Anna says, and there are tears in her eyes, though she is not sad. "What did you do?"

"Started," Elsa says, with that rippling, laughing, clicking. "Making the world more suited to us, that is. Like I promised. I opened the road to a forever with you… If… well, I just killed a lot of people. Not innocent people, but… If that's all right?"

"Of course that's all right," Anna says. She's next to her dragon now, and clinging to that thick, armored, neck. "I said I trust you, and I do. What's next? More killing?"

"Worse," Elsa nods her long, horned, head. "Diplomacy."

* * *

 **AN: Well, this was a lot later than intended. I wish I could give some sob story about how it gave me trouble, or something, but the truth is, I kept working on other things when I meant to finish this. Oops. Anyway, I've got one more chapter planned for this arc, so hopefully that will be up soon-ish.**

 **As always, stickers for the followers/favoriters/reviewers. You all are the best. And also as always, special thanks to those of you that take the trouble to review every chapter. You are an immense help.**


	19. Chapter 19

The restless murmur of the crowd can just be heard through the heavy velvet curtain. Elsa's hearts pound like the entire percussion section at an orchestra. Her side aches like a team of strong men are taking turns hitting her with a sledgehammer, but she barely notices it.

She looks human today. Ambassador-Dragon thought that might make her more relatable. She wears a dress. Long and midnight blue, with a single strap over the left shoulder. It's simple- no ruffles, no lace, no patterning of any sort. Ambassador-Dragon's idea as well. Elsa would have preferred something more… "gaudy," would be the English word for it. Something made of ice maybe. Something impossible for humans to make. But Ambassador-Dragon had said that humans seem to find more aesthetic appeal in simplicity, so simple it would be. Simple doesn't distract from the bandage she wears. It's a thick band of white wrapping around her chest, showing against her pale skin where her dress dips low on the right. She doesn't need it, though blood shows through scarlet; her species' magic has left only an ugly, puckered, scar, but Ambassador-Dragon had insisted. Remind them that you are vulnerable, and they might not fear you so much, might feel some sympathy. Show them that you are invincible, and they won't dare to try again. Manage both, and you'll get both. That's what Ambassador-Dragon had said, at least. Elsa takes a deep breath, winces, and wishes she hadn't.

The curtain opens.

It's a heavy, swishing, motion. The wheels shriek, though they're well-maintained. The auditorium is dim, but Elsa can just make out the faces in the front row. They all look the same to her. She blinks as the spotlights come on.

There is a familiar rustling all around her. A leathery, glassy, sound. Scale on scale, all about her, as Uhsovang shifts his ponderous bulk. Three hundred feet of spine and scale, his eye the size of a roundshield, his teeth like javelins. As he stirs, a gale blasts the crowd. It's caused by his magic, but the crowd doesn't know that. They've all read the hobbit- or heard of it, at least. "My wings, a hurricane." There are scattered gasps from the crowd, but mostly, they don't dare to make a sound. Deer, caught in the path of a mighty wolf.

Elsa glances to the side uncertainly. Behind the edge of the curtain, Anna gives a cheery thumbs up. Her hair gleams like gold in the dim light, and a spike of possessive instinct rips through Elsa like the mass driver slug had only days before. She steps forward.

"People of Norway," she says quietly, but she knows they can hear. She winces, not entirely falsely, as her mostly healed wound twinges. "People of Norway, and people of the world," she says. "My name is Elshavn, Queen of dragons." The hall is so quiet, she can hear her hearts thundering. "There have been a few rumors circulating these last few days which I… No, that's not right. That's not what I want to say." She winces, and hunches over the podium. "I am a dragon. Many centuries ago, our races lived side by side. But… we were attacked. They have borne many names over the years, but they have been the same all this time. So my people went into hiding. We tried hiding. We tried peace, but they kept finding us, and they kept attacking us, and there are so few of us left. So we retaliated, at long last." Elsa lies easily. She smiles back at Anna. "They are gone now, this organization that hunts my people. Annihilated. We did that. You know what I refer to, of course, and I'm sorry to have scared you. I'm sorry that our retaliation alarmed your governments and your friends and your families. That was not my intent." It was, of course. Play the victim, and show your teeth. Everyone will forgive you, your show of force, but they won't forget that you do have those teeth. "I'm sorry that your work has been disrupted, and I'm sorry that many of you are afraid to leave your homes, or else are stockpiling food and water. That was not our intent. We meant only to remove those people who have insisted on making us their enemies time and time again. That is what we did. They are gone now, or near enough to, and there were no innocents slain by our attack." That, at least, is true.

Elsa takes a deep breath. She winces again. "We are sorry for the inconvenience that our war has caused to each and every one of you, so, after speaking with the government of Norway, we have agreed to provide additional food and water to alleviate the strain, and in order to help assuage your worries." Help provided earns goodwill. Goodwill leads to trust, and builds the status quo. The status quo leads to dependence. The government knows this, but many of the politicians are dragons.

"Despite our… fearsome… appearance," Elsa continues, "we do not enjoy conflict. We don't mean to take over, as some rumors have implied. We don't want to eat you. Why would we? Deer taste better, and don't carry guns." The hall is silent. "That was a joke," Elsa says. "Apparently I'm not good at them." There is some laughter now. Scattered and tentative, but it's there. "That's… all, I suppose," Elsa says. "I will take questions now. Yes. You in the back?"

"Have you ever eaten a baby?" The man asks. He's loud. His voice carries better than Elsa's.

"Have I ever…" Elsa blinks. "What? No! Why would I eat a… Um. Next question? You there. With the um… thing… on your head?"

"Are you in league with the devil?" She asks.

"No," Elsa says. "That's stupid. You're stupid. Someone else… You."

"Are you planning to build an embassy?" She has a piece of plastic hanging from her chest. Anna had said that it means she's with the news companies.

"There has been some question of that," Elsa says. She looks back to Anna. Anna points back at the crowd. "The Norwegian government has asked us to, but we were concerned that it would be perceived as an attempt to get a foothold for invasion, which is, of course, foolish, but perceptions are important." Of course it's foolish. Dismiss it as foolish, and the audience will agree. They don't want to be _fools_ , after all. The sentiment will spread, and the populace will demand the embassy that they would otherwise protest.

* * *

"And it's the professional opinion of this advisory committee that dragons, having so few surviving members of their species, and such a long time to maturity, are, in fact, an endangered species. Therefore, morality aside, we recommend that people be prevented from hunting dragons, and a number of wildlife preservation initiatives be put in place."

* * *

"It's just like Jurassic Park. They're dinosaurs, and they'll eat us all if we let them. Well I say we don't let them."

* * *

"I don't see why we wouldn't apply first contact protocols to them, to be honest. We always thought that alien life would come from the sky. We never imagined that we might find another sentient race on our own planet, but the fact of the matter is that we have, and now, we have to deal with them fairly."

* * *

"Elsa?" Anna asks. She's laying in her favorite place in the crook of Elsa's neck.

"Yes?" The dragon's voice rumbles soothingly through her thick neck.

"I'm glad the humanists got what they deserved," Anna smiles deliberately. Reassuringly. "I was just wondering though… Ambassador Dragon was attacked a few days back, right?"

"Ambassador Dragon can take care of herself, little Anna," Elsa replies with her species characteristic clicking laugh.

"Yeah," Anna nods. "It's just, I'm worried about you. Wasn't that the reason you blew up the humanists? To keep this from happening?"

"Not exactly," Elsa rumbles. Anna reaches up and runs her freckled hand along one of the long, ivory, horns. Elsa leans in, and gives a pleased purr. "We're still being attacked, sure," she continues. "But the sort of organized attacks are ended. Who can manage the kind of resources it takes to kill one of us? Your governments, of course, but they have to contend with silly things like public opinion. The sort of vigilante attacks we're still seeing are obnoxious, but they aren't actually a threat. Centuries from now, when we rule the world, historians will look back and say that your governments missed their last opportunity. That's what I did. It's safe for us now."

"Makes sense," Anna nods agreeably. "What's your first order going to be?"

"Cars," Elsa grumbles. She gives a frustrated growl, and a viscous flick of her tail. "Do you know how many people die from them each year? One point three million. That is absolutely unacceptable! When you've already got cars that drive themselves! How do you people tolerate that?"

"You're silly," Anna grins.

* * *

 **AN: Hey all, sorry this took so long. On the bright side, at least it's not a cliffhanger. I had a few scenes planned that there wasn't time to include (Anna meeting Elsa's father... Elsa meeting Anna's parents...) so there will definitely be more. Must include all the scenes! I'm tentatively dividing this story into three parts, and the first one is officially done! Woohoo! I'll write the other two parts eventually. They'll be posted as a continuation of this story. It always annoys me when I see stories posted as "sequels" on this site. I'm not going to go digging through your profile for the first part, and I can't imagine anyone else is all that different... Then again, humans are weird, and I never really understand how they work.**

 **Ahem. Anyway. There's more planned. It will be posted... eventually...**


	20. Chapter 20

"What are we doing here?" Anna blinks at the continued reality around her. It's dark and lacking in detail and utterly half assed. "I thought our story was done?" She looks at the conspicuously absent fourth wall. "Yo, author person. I thought this story was done?"

"Don't address the author, darling," Elsa piers and peers around to look at her little human. "Remember, the author had plans for another two arcs?"

"Nebulous plans," Anna grumbles. "Does this look like a new arc?"

"No," Elsa rumbles. "It does not. I think it's an announcement. Humans like their announcements."

"An announcement?" Anna blinks. It's a very draconic expression. "For what?"

There's a noise like a thousand thunderstorms because the author is an over dramatic idiot. A banner unfurles from the sheer nothingness that is the ceiling. It says "You're a real book now. Congratulations!"

"A real book?" Anna asks. She can feel her name changing which is a feeling utterly impossible to describe to anyone who has not had their name changed by an author. "Is that a Pinocchio reference?"

"A shitty Pinocchio reference," the dragon grumbles. The two women seem unaware that it wasn't intended as a reference to anything, much less Pinocchio.

Someone whispers into their ears. "Oh," Anna says. "The author means that our names were changed, and our story was published."

"It was edited heavily too," Elsa says. It's hard to tell what emotion might be behind her armored face. "Apparently it wasn't good enough as it was."

"We get a beach party?" A slow smile comes over her. "I like the beach."

"I'm not so sure," Elsa says. "There's water at beaches. What if it puts out my fire?"

"I don't think that's a thing," Anna frowns a little. The author confirms that it isn't a thing.

* * *

 **AN: this site doesn't allow chapters that are only announcements, and I thought the best way to let all of my wonderful followers know was by giving them all a new chapter notification. Sorry… anyway, this was my solution. What I meant to say was this:**

 **This story has now been heavily edited, the names have all been changed, and it is now available for purchase as a real book. A few new chapters have also been added in part as an incentive for you all to spend the $3 for my book, in part because I kindof wanted to include them but didn't originally. I will leave this story posted on this site because I would feel bad for taking it away from you all. Anyway, if you want to support this story, it can be found on Amazon under the name "My Girlfriend is a Dragon."**


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